J 


THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  JASON. 


THE    LIFE    AND    DEATH 


OF 


A    POEM 


BY     WILLIAM     MORRIS 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS 
1867 


THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  JASON. 


ARGUMENT. 

JASON,  tlie  son  of  JEson,  king  of  lolchos,  having  come  to  man's 
estate,  demanded  of  Pelias  his  father's  kingdom,  which  he  held 
wrongfully.  But  Pelias  answered,  that  if  he  would  bring  from 
Colchis  the  golden  fleece  of  the  ram  that  had  carried  Phryxus 
thither,  he  would  yield  him  his  right.  Whereon  Jason  sailed  to 
Colchis  in  the  ship  Argo,  with  other  heroes,  and  hy  means  ol 
Medea,  the  king's  daughter,  won  the  fleece  ;  and  carried  off  also 
Medea ;  and  so,  after  many  troubles,  came  back  to  lolchos  again. 
There,  by  Medea's  wiles,  was  Pelias  slain ;  but  Jason  went  to 
Corinth,  and  lived  with  Medea  happily,  till  he  was  taken  with  the 
love  of  Glauce,  the  king's  daughter  of  Corinth,  and  must  needs 
wed  her;  whom  also  Medea  destroyed,  and  fled  to  JEgeus  at 
Athens  ;  and  not  long  after  Jason  died  strangely. 


BOOK    I. 

IN  Thessaly,  beside  the  tumbling  sea, 
Once  dwelt  a  folk  men  called  the  Minyse ; 
For,  coming  from  Orchomenus  the  old, 
Bearing  their  wives  and  children,  beasts  and  gold, 
Through  many  a  league  of  land  they  took  their  way, 
And  stopped  at  last,  where  in  a  sunny  bay 
The  green  Anaurus  cleaves  the  white  sea-sand, 
And  eastward  inland  doth  Mount  Pelion  stand, 
Where  bears  and  wolves  the  centaur's  arrows  find ; 
And  southward  is  a  gentle  sea  and  kind, 
Nigh  landlocked,  peopled  with  all  kinds  of  fish, 
And  the  good  land  yields  all  that  man  can  wish. 


t  76. 


6  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

So  there  they  built  lolchos,  that  each  day 
Grew  great,  until  all  these  were  passed  away, 
With  many  another,  and  Cretheus  the  king 
Had  died,  and  left  his  crown  and  everything 
To  ./Eson,  his  own  son  by  fair  Tyro ; 
Whom,  in  unhappy  days  and  long  ago, 
A  God  had  loved,  whose  son  was  Pelias. 

And  so,  within  a  while,  it  came  to  pass 
This  Pelias  being  covetous  and  strong 
And  full  of  wiles,  and  deeming  nought  was  wrong 
That  wrought  him  good,  thrust  ^Eson  from  his  throne, 
And  over  all  the  Minyse  reigned  alone ; 
While  JEson,  like  a  poor  and  feeble  lord, 
Dwelt  in  lolchos  still,  nor  was  his  word 
Regarded  much  by  any  man  therein, 
Nor  did  men  labour  much  his  praise  to  win. 

Now  'mid  all  this  a  fair  young  son  he  had ; 
And  when  his  state  thus  fell  from  good  to  bad 
He  thought,  Though  Pelias  leave  me  now  alone, 
Yet  he  may  wish  to  make  quite  sure  his  throne 
By  slaying  me  and  mine,  some  evil  day ; 
Therefore  the  child  will  I  straight  send  away, 
Ere  Pelias  feels  his  high  seat  tottering, 
And  gets  to  know  the  terrors  of  a  king, 
That  blood  alone  can  deaden.     Therewithal 
A  faithful  slave  unto  him  did  he  call, 
And  bade  him  from  his  nurses  take  the  child 
And  bear  him  forth  unto  the  forest  wild 
About  the  foot  of  Pelion  :  There  should  he 
Blow  loudly  on  a  horn  of  ivory 
That  ./Eson  gave  him  ;  then  would  come  to  him 
A  Centaur,  grave  of  face  and  large  of  limb, 
Before  whom  lie  should  fall  upon  his  knees. 
And,  holding  forth  the  child,  say  words  like  these  : 

"  0  my  lord  Cheiron,  JEson  sends  me  here 


OF  JASON.  ; 

To  say,  if  ever  you  have  bold  him  dear, 

Take  now  this  child,  his  son,  and  rear  him  up 

Till  we  have  fully  drained  the  bitter  cup 

The  fates  have  filled  for  us ;  and  if  times  change 

While  through  the  peaceful  oakwood  here  you  range, 

And  the  crown  comes  upon  the  youngling's  head, 

Then,  though  a  king  right  fair  apparelled, 

Yet  unto  you  shall  he  be  but  a  slave, 

Since  now  from  fear  his  tender  years  you  save  ;  " 

"  And  then,"  quoth  .ZEson,  "  all  these  words  being  said, 

Hold  out  this  ring,  set  with  a  ruby  red, 

Adorned  with  dainty  little  images, 

And  this  same  horn,  whereon,  'twixt  carven  trees, 

Diana  follows  up  the  flying  hart ; 

They  shall  be  signs  of  truth  upon  your  part. 

Then  leave  the  child  with  him,  and  corne  to  me, 

Minding  what  words  the  Centaur  saith  to  thee  ; 

Of  whom  thou  needest  have  no  whit  of  fear ; 

And,  ere  thou  goest,  bring  me  the  child  here." 

Then  went  the  man  and  came  again  to  him 
With  Jason,  who  was  strong  and  large  of  limb 
As  for  his  years,  and  now  upon  his  feet 
Went  firmly,  and  began  to  feel  life  sweet, 
And  longed  for  this  and  that,  and  on  his  tongue, 
Bewildered,  half  articulate,  speech  hung. 

But  ^Eson,  when  he  saw  the  sturdy  boy, 
His  fair  round  limbs  and  face  lit  up  with  joy 
Of  very  life,  sighed  deeply,  and  he  said  : 
"  0  child,  I  pray  the  Gods  to  spare  thine  head 
The  burden  of  a  crown ;  were  it  not  good 
That  thou  shouldst  live  and  die  within  this  wood 
That  clothes  the  feet  of  Pelion,  knowing  nought 
Of  all  the  things  by  foolish  men  so  sought ; 
For  there,  no  doubt,  is  everything  man  needs,  — 
The  quiver,  with  the  iron-pointed  reeds, 
The  cornel  bow,  the  wood-knife  at  the  side, 


THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  garments  of  the  spotted  leopard's  hide, 

The  bed  of  bear-skin  in  the  hollow  hill, 

The  bath  within  the  pool  of  some  green  rill ; 

There  shall  the  quick-eyed  centaurs  be  thy  friends, 

Unto  whose  hearts  such  wisdom  great  Jove  sends 

They  know  the  past  and  future,  and  fear  nought 

That  by  the  fates  upon  them  may  be  brought. 

And  when  the  spring  brings  love,  then  mayst  thou  find, 

In  some  fair  grassy  place,  the  wood-nymphs  kind, 

And  choose  thy  mate,  and  with  her,  hand  in  hand, 

Go  wandering  through  the  blossoming  sweet  land  ; 

And  nought  of  evil  there  shall  come  to  thee, 

But  like  the  golden  age  shall  all  things  be ; 

And  when  upon  thee  falls  the  fated  day, 

Fearless  and  painless  shalt  thou  pass  away." 

So  spoke  he  foolishly,  nor  knew  indeed 
How  many  hearts  his  son  should  make  to  bleed, 
How  many  griefs  his  head,  whitened  with  care 
Long  ere  its  time,  before  his  death  should  bear. 

Now,  since  the  moonless  night  and  dark  was  come, 
Time  was  it  that  the  child  should  leave  his  home ; 
And  saddled  in  the  court  the  stout  horse  stood 
That  was  to  bear  them  to  the  Centaur's  wood  ; 
And  the  tried  slave  stood  ready  by  his  lord, 
With  wallet  on  his  back,  and  sharpened  sword 
Girt  to  his  side  ;   to  whom  the  horn  and  ring, 
Fit  for  the  belt  and  finger  of  a  king, 
Did  ^Eson  give,  and  therewith  kissed  the  boy, 
Who  with  his  black  beard  played,  and  laughed  for  joy 
To  see  the  war-horse  in  the  red  torch-light. 
Then,  being  mounted,  forth  into  the  night 
They  rode,  and  thus  has  Ja^on  left  his  home. 

All  night  they  rode,  and  at  the  dawn,  being  come 
Unto  the  outskirts  of  the  forest  wild, 
They  left  the  horse,  and  the  still  sleeping  child 


OF  JASON. 

The  slave  bore  in  his  arms,  until  they  carne 
Unto  the  place  where,  living  free  from  blame, 
Cheiron  the  old  roamed  through  the  oaken  wood  ; 
There  by  a  flowering  thorn-bush  the  slave  stood, 
And  set  the  little  Jason  on  the  ground ; 
Who,  waking  from  sweet  sleep,  looked  all  around 
And  'gan  to  prattle  ;  but  his  guardian  drew 
The  horn  from  off  his  neck,  and  thereon  blew 
A  point  of  hunting  known  to  two  or  three, 
That  sounded  through  the  forest  merrily, 
Then  waited  listening. 

And  meantime  the  sun, 
Come  from  Euboean  cliffs,  had  just  begun 
To  light  the  high  tips  of  the  forest  grass, 
And  in  the  thorns  the  blackbird  singing  was ; 
But  'mid  his  noise  the  listening  man  could  hear 
The  sound  of  hoofs,  whereat  a  little  fear 
He  felt  within  his  heart,  and  heeded  nought 
The  struggling  of  the  child,  who  ever  sought 
To  gain  the  horn  all  glittering  of  gold, 
Wrought  by  the  cunning  Daedalus  of  old. 

But  louder  still  the  noise  he  hearkened  grew, 
Until  at  last  in  sight  the  Centaur  drew, 
A  mighty  grey  horse,  trotting  down  the  glade, 
Over  whose  back  the  long  grey  locks  were  laid, 
That  from  his  reverend  head  abroad  did  flow ; 
For  to  the  waist  was  man,  but  all  below 
A  mighty  horse,  once  roan,  now  well-nigh  white 
With  lapse  of  years ;  with  oak-wreaths  was  he  dight 
Where  man  joined  unto  horse,  and  on  his  head 
He  wore  a  gold  crown,  set  with  rubies  red, 
And  in  his  hand  he  bare  a  mighty  bow, 
No  man  could  bend  of  those  that  battle  now. 

So,  when  he  saw  him  coming  through  the  trees, 
The  trembling  slave  sunk  down  upon  his  knees 
And  put  the  child  before  him  ;  but  Cheiron, 


io  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Who  knew  all  things,  cried  :   "  Man  with  .ZEson's  son, 

Thou  necdest  not  to  tell  me  who  thou  art, 

Nor  will  I  fail  to  do  to  him  my  part  : 

A  vain  thing  were  it,  truly,  if  I  strove, 

Such  as  I  am,  against  the  will  of  Jove. 

Lo  now,  this  youngling,  set  'twixt  thee  and  me, 

In  days  to  come  a  mighty  man  shall  be, 

Well-riigh  the  mightiest  of  all  those  that  dwell 

Between  Olym-pus  and  Malea  ;  and  well 

Shall  Juno  love  him  till  he  come  to  die. 

"Now  get  thee  to  thy  master  presently, 
But  leave  with  me  the  red  ring  and  the  horn, 
That  folk  may  know  of  whom  this  boy  was  born 
In  days  to  come,  when  he  shall  leave  this  wild  : 
And  lay  between  my  arms  the  noble  child." 

So  the  slave  joyful,  but  still  half  afraid, 
Within  the  mighty  arms  young  Jason  laid, 
And  gave  up  both  the  horn  and  the  red  ring 
Unto  the  Centaur,  who  the  horn  did  sling 
About  him  ;  on  his  finger,  with  a  smile, 
Setting  the  ring  ;  and  in  a  little  while 
The  slave  departing,  reached  the  open  plain, 
And  straight  he  mounted  on  his  horse  again, 
And  rode  on  toward  lolchos  all  the  day, 
And  as  the  sunset  darkened  every  way, 
He  reached  the  gates,  and  coming  to  his  lord, 
Bid  him  rejoice,  and  told  him  every  word 
That  Cheiron  said,     llight  glad  was  ^Eson  then 
That  from  his  loins  a  great  man  among  men 
S-  ould  thus  have  sprung;  and  so  he  passed  his  days 
Full  quietly,  remote  from  fear  or  praise. 

And  now  was  Pelias  mindful  of  the  day 
When  from  the  altar's  horns  he  drew  away 
Sidero's  cruel  hands,  while  Neleus  smote 
The  golden-hilted  sword  into  her  throat, 


OF  JASOX.  II 

And  without  fire,  or  barley-cake,  or  cup, 
No  pleasing  victim,  she  was  offered  up 
In  Juno's  temple  ;  so  he  feared  that  he, 
Though  sprung  from  him  who  rules  the  restless  sea, 
Should  meet  an  evil  fate  at  Juno's  hands  : 
Therefore  he  sent  for  men  from  many  lands ; 
Marble  and  wood,  and  gold  and  brass  enow  ; 
And  day  by  day,  with  many  a  sounding  blow, 
The  masons  wrought,  until  at  last  was  reared 
A  temple  to  the  Goddess  that  he  feared ;  — 
A  wonder  among  temples,  for  the  stone 
That  made  it,  and  the  gold  that  therein  shone. 
And  in  the  midst  her  image  Pelias  set, 
Wrought  cunningly  of  purest  gold,  which  yet 
Had  served  him  better  in  his  treasury, 
So  little  store  the  Goddess  set  thereby. 

Moreover  to  Dodona,  where  the  doves 
Amid  the  oak-trees  murmur  of  their  loves, 
He  sent  a  messenger  to  know  his  fate  ; 
Who,  up  the  temple  steps,  beneath  the  weight 
Of  precious  things  went  bending ;  and  being  come 
Back  from  the  north  to  his  Thessalian  home, 
Gave  forth  this  answer  to  the  doubtful  king :  — 

"  0  Pelias,  fearful  of  so  many  a  thing, 
Sit  merry  o'er  thy  wine,  sleep  safe  and  soft 
Within  thy  golden  bed  ;  for  surely  oft 
The  snows  shall  fall  before  the  half-shod  man 
Can  come  upon  thee  through  the  water  wan." 

So  at  this  word  the  king  along  the  shore 
Built  many  a  tower,  and  still  more  and  more 
Drew  men  unto  him  skilled  in  spear  and  bow  ; 
And  through  the  streets  full  often  would  he  go 
Beset  with  guards,  and  for  the  rest  began 
To  be  a  terror  unto  every  man. 

And  yet  indeed  were  all  these  things  but  vain, 


12  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

For  at  the  foot  of  Pelion  grew  his  bane 

In  strength  anfl  comeliness  from  day  to  clay, 

And  swiftly  passed  his  childish  years  away  : 

Unto  whom  Cheiron  taught  the  worthy  lore 

Of  elders  who  the  wide  world  filled  before ; 

And  how  to  forge  his  iron  arrow-heads, 

And  how  to  find  within  the  marshy  steads 

The  stoutest  reeds,  and  from  some  slain  bird's  wing 

To  feather  them,  and  make  a  deadly  thing ; 

And  through  the  woods  he  took  him,  nor  would  spare 

To  show  him  how  the  just-awakened  lair 

Came  hungry  from  his  tree,  or  show  him  how 

The  spotted  leopard's  lurking-place  to  know ; 

And  many  a  time  they  brought  the  hart  to  bay, 

Or  smote  the  boar  at  hottest  of  the  day. 

Now  was  his  dwelling-place  a  fair-hewn  cave, 
Facing  the  south  :  thereto  the  herdsmen  drave 
Full  oft  to  Cheiron  woolly  sheep,  and  neat, 
And  brought  him  wine  and  garden-honey  sweet, 
And  fruits  that  flourish  well  in  the  fat  plain, 
And  cloth  and  linen,  and  would  take  again 
Skins  of  slain  beasts,  and  little  lumps  of  gold 
Washed  from  the  high  crags  :  then  would  Cheiron  hold, 
Upon  the  £unny  lawns,  high  feast  with  them, 
And  garland  all  about  the  ancient  stern 
Of  some  great  tree,  and  there  do  sacrifice 
Unto  the  Gods,  and  with  grave  words  and  wise 
Tell  them  sweet  tales  of  elders  passed  away  : 
But  for  some  wished  thing  every  man  would  pray 
Or  ever  in  their  hands  the  steel  did  shine, 
And  or  the  sun  lit  up  the  bubbling  wine  ; 
Then  would  they  fall  to  meat,  nor  would  they  leave 
Their  joyances,  until  the  dewy  eve 
Had  given  good  heart  unto  the  nightingale 
To  tell  the  sleepy  wood-nymphs  all  his  tale. 

Moreover,  Chieron  taught  him  how  to  cast 


OF  JASON.  13 

His  hand  across  the  lyre,  until  there  passed 

Such  sweetness  through  the  woods,  that  all  about 

The  wood-folk  gathered,  and  the  merry  rout 

That  called  on  Bacchus,  hearkening,  stayed  a  while, 

And  in  the  chase  the  hunter,  with  a  smile, 

From  his  raised  hand  let  fall  the  noisy  horn, 

When  to  his  ears  the  sweet  strange  sound  was  borne. 

But  in  the  night-time  once  did  Jason  wake, 
And  seem  to  see  the  moonlit  branches  shake 
With  huge,  unwonted  clamour  of  the  chase  ; 
Then  up  he  sprung,  but  ere  he  went  one  pace 
Unto  the  cave's  mouth,  Cheiron  raised  his  arm 
And  drew  him  back,  and  said:  "  Surely,  no  charm 
Thou  hast,  my  son,  against  Diana's  sight, 
Who  over  Pelion  goes  abroad  this  night ; 
Now  let  those  go  to  her  that  she  doth  call, 
Because  no  fenced  town,  brazen  gate  or  wall, 
No  coat  of  mail,  or  seven-folded  shield, 
Can  guard  thee  from  the  wound  that  ne'er  is  healed, 
When  she  is  angry.      Sleep  again,  my  son, 
Nor  wish  to  spoil  great  deeds  not  yet  begun." 

Then  Jason  lay  and  trembled,  while  the  sound 
Grew  louder  through  the  moonlit  woods  around, 
And  died  off  slowly,  going  toward  the  sea, 
Leaving  the  fern-owl  wailing  mournfully. 

Thereafter  wandering  lonely  did  he  meet 
A  maid,  with  girt-up  gown  and  sandalled  feet, 
Who  joyously  through  flowering  grass  did  go, 
Holding  within  her  hand  an  unstrung  bow ; 
And,  setting  eyes  on  her,  he  thought,  indeed, 
This  must  be  she  that  made  Acteeon  bleed  ; 
For,  certes,  ere  that  day  he  had  not  seen, 
Within  that  wild,  one  made  so  like  a  queen. 

So,  doubtful,  he  held  back,  nor  dared  to  love 
Her  rosy  feet,  or  ivory  knees  above, 
And,  with  half-lifted  eyes,  could  scarcely  dare 


14  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

To  gaze  upon  her  eyes  or  golden  hair, 

Or  hidden  bosom  :  but  she  called  aloud,  — 

"  Tell  me,  fair  youth,  if  thou  hast  seen  a  crowd 

Of  such  as  I  go  through  these  woods  to-day?  " 

And  when  his  stammering  tongue  no  word  could  say, 

She  smiled  upon  him,  and  said,  "  Who  art  thou, 

Who  seemest  fitter  from  some  galley's  prow 

To  lead  the  heroes  on  the  merchant-town, 

Than  through  the  wilds  to  hunt  the  poor  beasts  down, 

Or  underneath  the  canopy  to  sit, 

Than  by  the  beech  to  watch  the  cushat  flit  ? 

Speak  out  and  fear  not." 

"0,  my  queen  !  "  said  he, 
"  Fair  Goddess,  as  thou  seemest  well  to  be, 
Give  me  good  days  and  peace,  and  fair  girl's  love, 
And  let  great  kings  send  out  their  sons  to  rove  ; 
But  as  for  me,  my  name  is  little  known, 
I  am  but  Jason,  who  dwell  here  alone 
With  Cheirou  in  the  hollow  mountain-side, 
Wishful  for  happy  days,  whate'er  betide." 

"  Jason,"  she  said,  "  all  folk  shall  know  thy  naino, 
For  verily  the  Gods  shall  give  thee  fame, 
Whatever  they  keep  back  from  thee  :  behold  ! 
Restless  thou  shalt  be,  as  thou  now  art  bold, 
And  cunning,  as  thou  now  art  skilled  to  watch 
The  crafty  bear,  and  in  the  toils  to  catch 
The  grey-maned  yellow  lion  ;  and  now  see 
Thou  doest  my  commands,  for  certainly 
I  am  no  mortal ;  so  to  Cheiron  tell ; 
No  longer  is  it  fitting  thou  shouldst  dwell 
Here  in  the  wilds,  but  in  a  day  or  two, 
Clad  in  Magnesian  garments,  shalt  thou  go 
Unto  lolchos,  and  there  claim  thine  own. 
And  unto  thee  shall  Cheiron  first  make  known 
The  story  of  thy  father  and  thy  kin, 
That  thou  mayst  know  what  right  thou  hast  herein. 


OF  JASON.  15 

And  say  to  him,  I  bid  him  do  this  thing, 
By  this  same  token,  that  the  silver  ring 
Upon  my  altar,  with  Sidero's  blood 
Is  spotted  still,  and  that  the  half-charred  wood 
My  priests  had  lighted  early  on  that  day, 
Yet  lies  thereon,  by  no  flame  burnt  away." 
Then  Jason  fell  a-trembling,  and  to  him 
The  tall  green  stems  grew  wavering  and  dim  ; 
And  when  a  fresh  gust  of  the  morning  breeze 
Came  murmuring  along  the  forest  trees, 
And  woke  him  as  from  dreaming,  all  alone 
He  stood,  and  with  no  farewell  she  was  gone, 
Leaving  no  traces  of  her  dainty  feet. 

But  through  the  leaves  ambrosial  odours  sweet 
Yet  floated  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  place, 
And  with  slow  steps,  and  thinking  on  his  case, 
Went  back  to  Cheiron,  whom  he  found  laid  there, 
Half  sleeping  on  the  thymv  herbage  fair, 
To  whom  he  told  the  things  that  he  had-heard, 
With  flushed  and  eager  face,  for  they  had  stirred 
New  thoughts  within  him  of  the  days  to  come, 
So  that  he  longed  to  leave  his  woodland  home. 

Then  Cheiron  said  :   "  0,  fair  son,  thou  shalt  go, 
Since  now,  at  last,  the  Gods  will  have  it  so  : 
And  know  that,  till  thou  comest  to  the  end 
Of  thy  loved  life,  shall  Juno  be  thy  friend, 
Because  the  lovely  huntress  thou  didst  see 
Late  in  the  greenwood  certainly  was  she 
Who  sits  in  heaven  beside  almighty  Jove, 
And  noble  things  they  do  that  have  her  love. 

"  Now,  son,  to-day  I  rede  thee  not  to  go, 
Nor  yet  to-morrow,  for  clouds  great  and  slow 
Are  gathering  round  the  hill-tops,  and  I  think 
The  thirsty  fields  full  many  a  draught  will  drink  ; 
Therefore  to-day  our  cups  shall  not  be  dry, 
But  we  will  sit  together,  thou  and  I, 


1 6  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  tales  of  thy  forefathers  shalt  thou  hear, 
And  many  another,  till  the  heavens  clear." 

So  was  it  as  the  Centaur  said  ;  for  goon 
The  woods  grew  dark,  as  though  they  knew  no  noon  ; 
The  thunder  growled  about  the  high  brown  hills, 
And  the  thin,  wasted,  shining  summer  rills 
Grew  joyful  with  the  coming  of  the  rain, 
And  doubtfully  was  shifting  every  vane 
On  the  town  spires,  with  changing  gusts  of  wind ; 
Till  came  the  storm-blast,  furious  and  blind, 
'Twixt  gorges  of  the  mountains,  and  drove  back 
The  light  sea  breeze  ;  then  waxed  the  heavens  black, 
Until  the  lightning  leapt  from  cloud  to  cloud, 
With  clattering  thunder,  and  the  piled-up  crowd 
Began  to  turn  from  steely  blue  to  grey, 
And  toward  the  sea  the  thunder  drew  away, 
Leaving  the  north-wind  blowing  steadily 
The  rain-clouds  from  Olympus ;  while  the  sea 
Seemed  mingled  with  the  low  clouds  and  the  rain  : 
And  one  might  think  that  never  now  again 
The  sunny  grass  would  make  a  pleasant  bed 
For  tired  limbs,  and  dreamy,  languid  head 
Of  sandalled  nymph,  forewearied  with  the  chase. 

Meantime,  within  a  pleasant  lighted  place, 
Stretched  upon  warm  skins,  did  the  Centaur  lie, 
And  nigh  him  Jason,  listening  eagerly 
The  tales  he  told  him,  asking,  now  and  then, 
Strange  questions  of  the  race  of  vanished  men  : 
Nor  were  the  wine-cups  idle ;  till  at  last 
Desire  of  sleep  over  their  bodies  passed, 
And  in  their  dreamless  rest  the  wind  in  vain 
Howled  round  about,  with  washing  of  the  rain. 


OF  JASON.  I? 


BOOK    II. 

SO  there  they  lay  until  the  second  dawn 
Broke  fair  and  fresh  o'er  glittering  glade  and  lawn  ; 
Then  Jason  rose,  and  did  on  him  a  fair 
Blue  woollen  tunic,  such  as  folk  do  wear 
On  the  Magnesian  cliffs,  and  at  his  thigh 
An  iron-hilted  sword  hung  carefully ; 
And  on  his  head  he  had  a  russet  hood  ; 
And  in  his  hand  two  spears  of  cornel-wood, 
Well  steeled  and  bound  with  brazen  bands  he  shook. 

Then  from  the  Centaur's  hands  at  last  he  took 
The  tokens  of  his  birth,  the  ring  and  horn, 
And  so  stept  forth  into  the  sunny  morn, 
And  bade  farewell  to  Cheiron,  and  set  out 
With  eager  heart,  that  held  small  care  or  doubt. 

So  lightly  through  the  well-known  woods  he  passed , 
And  came  out  to  the  open  plain  at  last, 
And  went  till  night  came  on  him,  and  then  slept 
Within  a  homestead  that  a  poor  man  kept ; 
And  rose  again  at  dawn,  and  slept  that  night 
Nigh  the  Anaurus,  and  at  morrow's  light 
Rose  up  and  went  unto  the  river's  brim ; 
/"But  fearful  seemed  the  passage  unto  him, 
For  swift  and  yellow  drave  the  stream  adown 
'Twixt  crumbling  banks  ;  and  tree-trunks  rough  and  brown 
Whirled  in  the  bubbling  eddies  here  and  there  ; 
So  swollen  was  the  stream  a  maid  might  dare 
To  cross,  in  fair  days,  with  unwetted  knee^J 

Then  Jason  with  his  spear-shaft  carefully 
Sounded  the  depth,  nor  any  bottom  found  ; 
And  wistfully  he  cast  his  eyes  around 
To  see  if  help  was  nigh,  and  heard  a  voice 
Behind  him,  calling  out,  "  Fair  youth,  rejoice 


1 8  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

That  I  am  here  to  help,  or  certainly 

Long  time  a  dweller  hereby  shouldst  thou  be." 

Then  Jason  turned  round  quickly,  and  beheld 
A  woman,  bent  with  burdens  and  with  eld, 
Grey  and  broad  shouldered  ;  so  he  laughed,  and  said  : 
"  0  mother,  wilt  thou  help  me  ?  by  my  head, 
More  help  than  thine  I  need  upon  this  day." 

"  0  son,"  she  said,  "  needs  must  thou  on  thy  way ; 
And  is  there  any  of  the  giants  here 
To  bear  thee  through  this  water  without  fear  ? 
Take,  then,  the  help  a  God  has  sent  to  thee, 
For  in  mine  arms  a  small  thing  shalt  thou  be." 

So  Jason  laughed  no  more,  because  a  frown 
Gathered  upon  her  brow,  as  she  cast  down 
Her  burden  to  the  earth  and  came  a-nigh, 
And  raised  him  in  her  long  arms  easily, 
And  stept  adown  into  the  water  cold. 

There  with  one  arm  the  hero  did  she  hold, 
And  with  the  other  thrust  the  whirling  trees 
Away  from  them ;  and  laughing,  and  with  ease 
Went  through  the  yellow  foaming  stream,  and  came 
Unto  the  other  bank  ;  and  little  shame 
Had  Jason  that  a  woman  carried  him, 
For  no  man,  howsoever  strong  of  limb, 
Had  dared  across  the  swollen  stream  to  go, 
But  if  he  wished  the  Stygian  stream  to  know ; 
Therefore  he  doubted  not,  that  with  some  God 
Or  reverend  Goddess  that  rough  way  he  trod. 

So  when  she  had  clomb  up  the  slippery  bank 
And  let  him  go,  well-nigh  adown  he  sank, 
For  he  was  dizzy  with  the  washing  stream, 
And  with  that  passage  mazed  as  with  a  dream. 

But,  turning  round  about  unto  the  crone, 
He  saw  not  her,  but  a  most  glorious  one, 
A  lady  clad  in  blue,  all  glistering 
With  something  more  than  gold,  crowned  like  the  king 


OF  JASON.  19 

Of  all  the  world,  and  holding  in  her  hand 
A  jewelled  rod.     So  when  he  saw  her  stand 
With  unsoiled  feet  scarce  touching  the  wet  way, 
He  trembled  sore,  but  therewith  heard  her  say :  — 

"  0  Jason,  such  as  I  have  been  to  thee 
Upon  this  day,  such  ever  will  I  be  ; 
And  I  am  Juno;  therefore  doubt  thou  not 
A  mighty  helper  henceforth  thou  hast  got 
Against  the  swords  and  bitter  tongues  of  men, 
For  surely  mayst  thou  lean  upon  me,  when 
The  turbulent  and  little-reasoning  throng 
Press  hard  upon  thee,  or  a  king  with  wrong 
Would  fain  undo  thee,  as  thou  leandst  just  now 
Within  the  yellow  stream  :  so  from  no  blow 
Hold  back  thine  hand,  nor  fear  to  set  thine  heart 
On  what  thou  deemest  fits  thy  kingly  part. 

Now  to  the  king's  throne  this  day  draw  anear, 
Because  of  old  time  I  have  set  a  fear 
Within  his  heart,  ere  yet  thou  hadst  gained  speech, 
And  whilst  thou  wanderedst  beneath  oak  and  beech 
Unthinking.      And,  behold  !    so  have  I  wrought, 
That  with  thy  coming  shall  a  sign  be  brought 
Unto  him  ;  for  the  latchet  of  thy  shoe 
Rushing  Anaurus  late  I  bade  undo, 
Which  now  is  carried  swiftly  to  the  sea. 

So  Pelias,  this  day  setting  eyes  on  thee, 
Shall  not  forget  the  shameful  trickling  blood 
Adown  my  altar-steps,  or  in  my  wood 
The  screaming  peacocks  scared  by  other  screams, 
Nor  yet  to-night  shall  he  dream  happy  dreams. 

Farewell,  then,  and  be  joyful,  for  I  go 
Unto  the  people,  many  a  thing  to  show, 
And  set  them  longing  for  forgotten  things, 
Whose  rash  hands  toss  about  the  crowns  of  kings." 

Therewith  before  his  eyes  a  cloud  there  came, 
Sweet-smelling,  colored  like  a  rosy  flame, 


20  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

That  wrapt  the  Goddess  from  him  ;  who,  indeed, 
Went  to  lolchos,  and  there  sowed  the  seed 
Of  bitter  change,  that  ruins  kings  of  men ; 
For,  like  an  elder  of  threescore  and  ten, 
Throughout  the  town  she  went,  and,  as  such  do, 
Ever  she  blessed  the  old,  and  banned  the  new ; 
Lamenting  for  the  passed  and  happy  reign 
Of  Cretheus,  wishing  there  were  come  again 
One  like  to  him ;  till  in  the  market-place 
About  the  king  was  many  a  doubtful  face. 

Now  Jason,  by  Anaurus  left  alone, 
Found  that,  indeed,  his  righjrfoot  shoe  was  gone, 
But,  as  the  Goddess  bade  him,  went  his  way 
Half  shod,  and  by  an  hour  before  mid-day 
He  reached  the  city  gates,  and  entered  there, 
Whom  the  folk  mocked,  beholding  his  foot  bare, 
And  iron-hilted  sword,  and  uncouth  weed  : 
But  of  no  man  did  he  take  any  heed, 
But  came  into  the  market-place,  where  thronged 
Much  folk  about  him  who  his  sire  had  wronged. 
But  when  he  stood  within  that  busy  stead, 
Taller  he  showed  than  any  by  a  head, 
Great  limbed,  broad  shouldered,  mightier  than  all, 
But  soft  of  speech,  though  unto  him  did  fall 
Full  many  a  scorn  upon  that  day  to  get. 

So  in  a  while  he  came  where  there  was  set 
Pelias,  the  king,  judging  the  people  there ; 
In  scarlet  was  he  clad,  and  on  his  hair, 
Sprinkled  with  grey,  he  wore  a  royal  crown, 
And  from  an  ivory  throne  he  looked  adown 
Upon  the  suitors  and  the  restless  folk. 

Now,  when  the  yellow  head  of  Jason  broke 
From  out  the  throng,  with  fearless  eyes  and  grey, 
A  terror  took  the  king,  that  ere  that  day 
For  many  a  peaceful  year  he  had  not  felt, 


OF  JASON.  21 

And  his  hand  fell  upon  his  swordless  belt ; 

But  when  the  hero  strode  up  to  the  throne, 

And  set  his  unshod  foot  upon  the  stone 

Of  the  last  step  thereof,  and  as  he  stood, 

Drew  off  the  last  fold  of  his  russet  hood, 

And  with  a  clang  let  fall  his  brass-bound  spear, 

The  king  shrunk  back,  grown  pale  with  deadly  fear ; 

Nor  then  the  oak-trees'  speech  did  he  forget, 

Noting  the  one  bare  foot,  and  garments  wet, 

And  something  half  remembered  in  his  face. 

And  now  nigh  silent  was  the  crowded  place, 
For  through  the  folk  remembrance  Juno  sent, 
And  soon  from  man  to  man  a  murmur  went, 
And  frowning  folk  were  whispering  deeds  of  shame 
And  wrong  the  king  had  wrought,  and  ^Eson's  name, 
Forgotten  long,  was  bandied  all  about, 
And  silent  mouths  seemed  ready  for  a  shout. 

So,  when  the  king  raised  up  a  hand,  that  shook 
With  fear,  and  turned  a  wrathful,  timorous  look 
On  his  ^Etolian  guards,  upon  his  ears 
There  fell  the  clashing  of  the  people's  spears  ; 
And  on  the  house-tops  round  about  the  square 
Could  he  behold  folk  gathered  here  and  there. 
And  see  the  sunbeams  strike  on  brass  and  steel. 
But  therewithal,  though  new  fear  did  he  feel, 
He  thought,  "  Small  use  of  arms  in  this  distress,  — 
Needs  is  it  that  I  use  my  wiliness ;  " 
Then  spoke  aloud :  "  0,  man,  what  wouldst  thou  here 
That  beardest  thus  a  king  with  little  fear  ?  " 

"  Pelias,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not  call  thee  king, 
Because  thy  crown  is  but  a  stolen  thing, 
And  with  a  stolen  sceptre  dost  thou  reign, 
Which  now  I  bid  thee  render  up  again, 
And  on  his  father's  throne  my  father  set, 
Whom  for  long  years  the  Gods  did  well  forget, 
But  now,  in  lapse  of  time,  remembering, 

3* 


22  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Have  raised  me,  Jason,  up  to  do  this  thing, 

His  son,  and  son  of  fair  Alcimide  ; 

Yet  now,  since  Tyro's  blood  'twixt  thee  and  me 

Still  runs,  and  thou  my  father's  brother  art, 

In  no  wise  would  I  hurt  thee,  for  my  part, 

If  thou  wilt  render  to  us  but  our  own, 

And  still  shalt  thou  stand  nigh  my  father's  throne." 

Then  all  the  people,  when  aright  they  knew 
That  this  was  bison's  son,  about  them  drew, 
And  when  he  ended  gave  a  mighty  shout ; 
But  Pelias  cleared  his  face  of  fear  and  doubt, 
And  answered  Jason,  smiling  cunningly  :  — 

"  Yea,  in  good  time  thou  comest  unto  me, 
My  nephew  Jason  ;  fain  would  I  lay  down 
This  heavy  weight  and  burden  of  a  crown, 
And  have  instead  my  brother's  love  again 
I  lost,  to  win  a  troublous  thing  and  vain  ; 
And  yet,  since  now  thou  showest  me  such  good-will, 
Fain  would  I  be  a  king  a  short  while  still, 
That  everything  in  order  I  may  set, 
Nor  any  man  thereby  may  trouble  get. 
And  now  I  bid  thee  stand  by  me  to-day, 
And  cast  all  fear  and  troublous  thoughts  away  ; 
And  for  thy  father  JEson  will  I  send, 
That  I  may  see  him  as  a  much-loved  friend, 
Now  that  these  years  of  bitterness  are  past, 
And  peaceful  days  are  come  to  me  at  last." 

With  that,  from  out  the  press  grave  ^Eson  came, 
E'en  as  he  spoke ;  for  to  his  cars  the  fame 
Of  Jason's  coming  thither  had  been  brought ; 
Wherefore,  with  eager  eyes  his  son  he  sought ; 
But,  seeing  the  mighty  hero  great  of  limb, 
Stopped  short,  with  eyes  set  wistfully  on  him, 
While  a  false  honied  speech  the  king  began  : 

"  Hail,  brother  ^Eson,  hail,  O  happy  man  ! 
To-day  thou  winnest  back  a  noble  son, 


OF  JASON.  23 

Whose  glorious  deeds  this  hour  sees  begun, 
And  from  my  hands  thou  winnest  back  the  crown 
Of  this  revered  and  many-peopled  town  ; 
So  let  me  win  from  thee  again  thy  love, 
Nor  with  long  anger  slight  the  Gods  above." 

Then  Jason,  holding  forth  the  horn  and  ring, 
Said  to  his  father  :  ' '  Doubtest  thou  this  thing  ? 
Behold  the  tokens  Cheiron  gave  to  me 
When  first  he  said  that  I  was  sprung  from  thee." 

Then  little  of  those  signs  did  J&son  reck, 
But  cast  his  arm  about  the  hero's  neck, 
And  kissed  him  oft,  remembering  well  the  time 
When  as  he  sat  beneath  the  flowering  lime 
Beside  his  house,  the  glad  folk  to  him  came 
And  said  :  "  0  King,  all  honour  to  thy  name 
That  will  not  perish  surely,  for  thy  son 
His  royal  life  this  day  has  just  begun." 

Wherefore  unto  him,  like  an  empty  dream, 
The  busy  place,  the  king  and  folk  did  seem, 
As  on  that  sight  at  las.  he  set  his  eyes, 
Prayed  for  so  oft  with  many  a  sacrifice  ; 
And  speechless  for  a  while  fain  must  he  stand, 
Holding  within  his  hand  the  mighty  hand ; 
And  as  the  wished-for  son  he  thus  beheld, 
Half  mournful  thoughts  of  swiftly-gathering  eld 
Came  thick  upon  him,  till  the  salt  tears  ran 
On  to  the  raiment  of  the  goodly  man ; 
Until  at  last  he  said  :  "  All  honour  now 
To  Jove  and  all  the  Gods  !     Surely,  I  know, 
Henceforth  my  name  shall  never  perish  ;  yet 
But  little  joy  of  this  man  shall  I  get, 
For  through  the  wide  world  where  will  be  the  king 
Who  will  not  fear  him  ;  nor  shall  anything 
Be  strong  against  him  ;  therefore  certainly 
Full  seldom  will  he  ride  afield  with  me, 
Nor  will  he  long  bear  at  his  father's  board 


24  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

To  sit,  well-known  of  all,  but  with  his  sword 

Will  rather  burst  asunder  banded  throngs 

Of  evil  men,  and  heal  some  great  king's  wrongs. 

And  as  for  thee,  0  Pelias,  as  I  may, 
Will  I  be  friend  to  thee  from  this  same  day ; 
And  since  we  both  of  us  are  growing  old, 
And  both  our  lives  will  soon  be  as  tales  told, 
I  think  perchance  that  thou  wilt  let  me  be, 
To  pass  these  few  years  in  felicity 
That  this  one  brings  me." 

Thereon  Pelias  said  :  — 
"  Yea,  if  I  hurt  thee  aught,  then  on  my  head 
Be  every  curse  that  thou  canst  ever  think ; 
And  dying,  of  an  ill  draught  may  I  drink, 
For  in  my  mind  is  nought  but  wish  for  rest. 

"  But  on  this  day,  I  pray  thee  be  my  guest, 
While  yet  upon  my  head  I  wear  the  crown, 
Which,  ere  this  morning's  flowers  have  fallen  down, 
Your  head  shall  bear  again ;  for  in  the  hall, 
Upon  the  floor  the  fresh-plucked  rushes  fall, 
Even  as  we  speak,  and  maids  and  men  bear  up 
The  kingly  service  ;  many  a  jewelled  cup 
And  silver  platter  ;  and  the  fires  roar 
About  the  stalled  ox  and  the  woodland  boar ; 
And  wine  we  have,  that  ere  this  youngling's  eyes 
First  saw  the  light,  made  tears  and  laughter  rise 
Up  from  men's  hearts,  making  the  past  seem  dull, 
The  future  hollow,  but  the  present  full 
Of  all  delights,  if  quick  they  pass  away  ; 
And  we,  who  have  been  foes  for  many  a  day, 
Surely,  ere  evening  sees  the  pitcher  dry, 
May  yet  be  friends,  and  talking  lovingly, 
And  with  our  laughter  make  the  pillars  ring, 
While  this  one  sits  revolving  many  a  thing, 
Saddened  by  that,  which  makes  us  elders  glad." 

Such  good  words  said  he,  but  the  thoughts  were  bad 


OF  JASON,  25 

Within  his  crafty  breast ;  and  still  he  thought 
How  best  he  might  be  rid  of  him  just  brought, 
By  sentence  of  the  Gods,  upon  his  head. 

Then  moved  the  kinsmen  from  the  market-stead 
Between  a  lane  of  men,  who  ever  pressed 
About  the  princes,  and  with  loud  words  blessed 
The  hero  and  his  race,  and  thought  no  shame 
To  kiss  his  skirts ;  and  so  at  last  they  came 
Unto  the  house  that  rustling  limes  did  shade, 
And  thereabout  was  many  a  slender  maid, 
Who  welcomed  them  with  music  and  sweet  song, 
And  cast  red  roses  as  they  went  along 
Before  their  feet ;  and  therewith  brought  the  three 
Into  the  palace,  where  right  royally 
Was  Jason  clad,  and  seemed  a  prince  indeed. 

So  while  the  harp-string  and  shrill-piping  reed 
Still  sounded,  trooped  the  folk  unto  the  feast, 
And  all  were  set  to  meat,  both  most  and  least ; 
And  when  with  dainties  they  were  fully  fed, 
Then  the  tall  jars  and  well-sewn  goat-skins  bled, 
And  men  grew  glad,  forgetting  every  care. 
But  first  a  golden  chain  and  mantle  fair 
Pelias  did  on  him  ;  and  then,  standing  up, 
Poured  out  red  wine  from  a  great  golden  cup 
Unto  the  Gods,  and  prayed  to  them  :  "  0  ye 
Who  rule  the  world,  grant  us  felicity 
This  hour,  at  least,  nor  let  our  sweet  delight 
lie  marred  by  aught,  until  the  silent  night 
Has  come,  and  turned  to  day  again,  and  we 
Wake  up  once  more  to  joy  or  misery, 
Or  death  itself,  if  so  it  pleaseth  you  : 
Is  this  thing,  then,  so  great  a  thing  to  do  ?  " 

Thereon  folk  shouted,  and  the  pipes  again 
Breathed  through  the  hall  a  sweet  heart-softening  strain, 
And  up  the  hall  came  lovely  damsels,  dressed 
In  gowns  of  green,  who  unto  every  guest 


26  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH  9 

Gave  a  rose  garland,  nor  yet  hasted  they, 
When  this  was  done,  to  pass  too  quick  away, 
If  here  and  there  an  eager  hand  still  held 
By  gown  or  wrist,  whom  the  young  prince  beheld 
With  longing  eyes  that  roved  about  the  hall. 

Now  longer  did  the  cool  grey  shadows  fall, 
And  faster  drew  the  sun  unto  the  west, 
And  in  the  field  the  husbandman,  opprest 
With  twelve  hours'  labour,  turned  unto  his  home, 
And  to  the  fold  the  woolly  sheep  were  come ; 
And  in  the  hall  the  folk  began  to  tell 
Stories  of  men  of  old,  who  bore  them  well, 
And  piteous  tales.     And  Jason  in  mean  while 
Sat  listening  as  his  uncle,  with  a  smile, 
Kept  pouring  many  a  thing  into  his  ears, 
Now  worthy  laughter,  and  now  meet  for  tears. 
Until  at  last,  when  twilight  was  nigh  gone, 
And  dimly  through  the  place  the  gold  outshone, 
He  bade  them  bring  in  torches,  and  while  folk 
Blinked  on  the  glare  that  through  the  pillars  broke, 
He  said  to  Jason  :   "  Yet  have  I  to  tell 
One  tale  I  would  that  these  should  hear  as  well 
As  you,  0  Prince."     And  therewith  did  he  call 
The  herald,  bidding  him  throughout  the  hall 
Cry  silence  for  the  story  of  the  king. 

And  this  being  done,  and  all  men  listening, 
He  rose  and  said,   "  0  noble  Minyjx), 
Right  prosperous  and  honoured  may  ye  be  ; 
When  Athamas  ruled  over  Thebes  the  great, 
Upon  his  house  there  fell  a  heavy  fate, 
Making  his  name  a  mere  byeword  ;  for  he, 
Being  wedded  to  the  noble  Nephele, 
-Gat  on  her  a  fair  youth  and  tender  maid, 
Phryxus  and  Hello  ;  but,  being  nought  afraid 


OF  JASON.  27 

Of  what  the  righteous  Gods  might  do  to  hinv 
And  seeing  Ino,  fair  of -face  and  limb  ( 

Beyond  all  other,  needs  with  her  must  wed, 
And  to  that  end  drove  from  his  royal  bed 
Unhappy  Nephele,  who  now  must  be 
A  slave,  where  once  she  governed  royally  ; 
While  the  white-footed  Ino  sat  alone 
By  Athamas  upon  the  ivory  throne. 

"  And  now,  as  time  went  on,  did  Ino  bear 
To  Athamas  two  children  hale  and  fair ; 
Therefore,  the  more  increased  her  enmity 
Against  those  two  erst  born  of  Nephele, 
Who  yet,  in  spite  of  all  things,  day  by  day 
Grew  fairer  as  their  sad  lives  wore  away ; 
Till  Ino  thought,  '  What  help  will  it  have  been, 
That  through  these  years  I  have  been  called  a  queen, 
And  set  gold  raiment  on  my  children  dear, 
If  Athamas  should  die  and  leave  me  here 
Betwixt  the  people  and  this  Nephele, 
With  those  she  bore  ?     What  then  could  hap  to  me 
But  death  or  shame  ?  for  then,  no  doubt,  would  reign 
Over  this  mighty  town  the  children  twain ; 
With  her  who  once  was  queen  still  standing  near, 
And  whispering  fell  words  in  her  darlings'  ear. 
And  then  what  profit  would  it  be  that  they 
Have  won  through  me  full  many  an  evil  day  • 
That  Phryxus  base  and  servile  deeds  doth  know, 
Unmeet  for  lords ;  that  many  a  shame  and  woe 
Helle  has  borne,  and  yet  is  wont  to  stand, 
Shrinking  with  fear,  before  some  dreaded  hand ; 
If  still  the  ending  of  it  must  be  this, 
That  I  must  die  while  they  live  on  in  bliss, 
And  cherish  her  that  first  lay  in  my  bed  V 
Nor  is  there  any  help  till  they  be  dead.' 

"  Then  did  she  fall  on  many  an  evil  thought, 
And  going  thence,  with  threats  and  money  brought 


28  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  women  of  the  land  to  do  this  thing  : 

In  the  mid-winter,  yea,  before  the  spring 

Was  in  men's  minds,  they  took  the  good  seed  corn, 

And  while  their  husbands  toiled  in  the  dark  morn, 

And  dreaded  nought,  they  thoroughly  seethed  it  all ; 

Whereby  this  seeming  portent  did  befall, 

That  neither  the  sweet  showers  of  April  tide, 

Nor  the  May  sunshine,  gleaming  far  and  wide 

Over  the  meadows,  made  their  furrows  green, 

Nor  yet  in  June  was  any  young  shoot  seen. 

' '  Then  drew  the  country  folk  unto  the  king, 
Weeping  and  wailing,  telling  of  the  thing, 
And  praying  him  to  satisfy  the  God, 
Whoe'er  he  was,  who  with  this  cruel  rod 
So  smote  his  wretched  people  :  whereon  he 
Bade  all  his  priests  inquire  solemnly 
What  thing  had  moved  the  Gods  to  slay  them  thus  ? 
Who,  hearing  all  this  story  piteous, 
Because  their  hands  had  felt  Queen  Ino's  gold, 
And  itched  for  more,  this  thing  in  answer  told  :  — 

"  That  great  Diana  with  Queen  Nephele 
Was  wroth  beyond  measure,  for  that  she, 
Being  vowed  unto  the  Goddess,  none  the  less 
Cast  by  the  quiver  and  the  girt-up  dress, 
To  wed  with  Athamas,  the  mighty  king, 
Therefore  must  she  pay  forfeit  for  the  thing, 
And  though  she  still  should  keep  her  wretched  life, 
Yet  must  she  give  her  children  to  the  knife, 
Or  else  this  dearth  should  be  but  happiness 
To  what  should  come,  for  she  would  so  oppress 
The  land  of  Thebes,  that  folk  who  saw  its  name 
In  old  records,  would  turn  the  page,  and  blame 
The  chronicler  for  telling  empty  lies, 
And  mingling  fables  with  his  histories. 

"  Therefore  is  Athamas  a  wretched  man 
To  hear  this  tale,  and  doeth  what  he  can 


OF   JASON.  29 

To  save  his  flesh  and  blood,  but  all  in  vain ; 

Because  the  people,  cruel  in  their  pain, 

With  angry  words  were  thronging  the  great  hall, 

And  crafty  Ino  at  his  feet  did  fall, 

Saying,  '  0  King,  I  pray  for  these,  and  me, 

And  for  my  children.'     Therefore,  mournfully 

He  called  the  priests  again,  and  bade  them  say, 

In  few  words,  how  his  children  they  would  slay, 

And  when  the  dreadful  bearer  of  the  bow 

Would  best  be  pleased  to  see  their  young  blood  flow. 

Who  said,  '  that  if  the  thing  were  quickly  done, 

Seeing  the  green  things  were  not  wholly  gone, 

The  ruined  fields  might  give  a  little  food, 

And  that  high  noon-tide  the  next  day  was  good, 

Above  all  other  hours,  to  do  the  thing ; 

And  thereupon  they  prayed  unto  the  king, 

To  take  the  younglings,  lest,  being  fled  away, 

They  still  might  live  and  leave  an  evil  day 

To  Thebes  and  all  its  folk  henceforth  to  bear.' 

"  Then  men  were  sent,  who  by  the  river  fair 
Found  Phryxus  casting  nets  into  the  stream, 
Who,  seeing  them  coming,  little  harm  did  deem 
They  meant  him,  and  with  welcome  bade  them  share 
The  glittering  heap  of  fishes  that  lay  there. 
But  they  with  laughter  fell  at  once  on  him, 
Who,  struggling  wrathfully,  broke  here  a  limb 
And  there  a  head,  but  lastly  on  the  ground 
Being  felled  by  many  men,  was  straightly  bound, 
And  in  an  iron-bolted  prison  laid, 
While  to  the  house  they  turned  to  seek  the  maid. 

"  Whom  soon  they  found,  within  the  weaving-room, 
Bent  earnestly  above  the  rattling  loom, 
Working  not  like  a  king's  child,  but  a  slave 
Who  strives  her  body  from  the  scourge  to  save. 
On  her  they  seized,  speechless  for  very  fear, 
And  dragged  her  trembling  to  the  prison  drear, 


30  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Where  lay  her  brother,  and  there  cast  her  in, 
Giddy  and  fainting,  wondering  for  what  sin 
She  suffered  this ;  but,  finding  Phryxus  laid 
In  the  same  dismal  place,  the  wretched  maid 
Bewailed  with  him  the  sorrows  of  their  life, 
Praying  the  Gods  to  show  the  king's  new  wife 
What  sorrow  was,  nor  let  her  hair  grow  grey 
Ere  in  some  hopeless  place  her  body  lay. 

"  Now  in  that  court  a  certain  beast  there  was, 
The  gift  of  Neptune  to  King  Atbamas, 
A  mighty  ram,  greater  than  such  beasts  be 
In  any  land  about  the  Grecian  sea  ; 
And  in  all  else  a  wonder  to  men's  eyes, 
For  from  his  shoulders  did  two  wings  arise, 
That  seemed  as  they  were  wrought  of  beaten  gold, 
And  all  his  fleece  was  such  as  in  no  fold 
The  shepherd  sees,  for  all  was  gold  indeed. 
And  now  this  beast  with  dainty  grass  to  feed, 
The  task  of  Nephcle  had  late  been  made, 
AVho,  nothing  of  the  mighty  ram  afraid, 
Would  bring  him  flowering  trefoil  day  by  day, 
And  comb  his  fleece ;  and  her  the  ram  would  pay 
With  gentle  bleatings,  and  would  lick  her  hand, 
As  in  his  well-built  palace  he  did  stand. 
For  all  the  place  was  made  of  polished  wood, 
Studded  with  gold ;  and,  when  he  thought  it  good, 
Within  a  little  meadow  could  he  go, 
Throughout  the  midst  whereof  a  stream  did  flow, 
And  at  the  corners  were  there  great  lime-trees, 
Hummed  over  by  innumerable  bees. 

"  So  on  the  morning  when  these  twain  should  die, 
Stole  Nephele  to  this  place  quietly 
And  loosed  the  ram,  and  led  him  straight  away 
Unto  Diana's  temple,  where  that  day 
Her  heart  should  break  unless  the  Gods  were  good. 
There  with  the  ram,  close  in  a  little  wood, 


OF  JASON.  31 

She  hid  herself  a-nigh  the  gates,  till  noon 

Should  bring  those  to  the  Lady  of  the  Moon 

She  longed  to  see  ;  and  as  the  time  drew  nigh, 

She  knelt,  and  with  her  trembling  hands  did  tie 

About  the  gold  beast's  neck  a  mystic  thing, 

And  in  his  ears,  meanwhile,  was  murmuring 

Words  taught  her  by  the  ever-changing  God, 

Who  on  the  sands  at  noon  is  wont  to  nod 

Beside  the  flock  of  Neptune  ;  till  at  last 

Upon  the  breeze  the  sound  of  flutes  went  past ; 

Then  sore  she  trembled,  as  she  held  the  beast 

By  the  two  golden  horns,  but  never  ceased 

Her  mystic  rhyme ;  and  louder,  and  more  loud 

The  music  sounded,  till  the  solemn  crowd 

Along  the  dusty  road  came  full  in  sight. 

First  went  the  minstrels,  clad  in  raiment  white, 

Both  men  and  maids  garlanded  daintily ; 

And  then  ten  damsels,  naked  from  the  knee, 

Who  in  their  hands  bare  bows  done  round  with  leaves, 

And  arrows  at  their  backs  in  goodly  sheaves, 

Gaudily  feathered,  ready  for  the  strife  ; 

Then  came  three  priests,  whereof  one  bore  the  knife, 

One  a  great  golden  bowl  to  hold  the  blood, 

And  one  a  bundle  of  some  sacred  wood  ; 

And  then  was  left  a  little  vacant  space, 

And  then  came  gold,  and  she  could  see  the  face 

Of  beauteous  Ino,  flushed  and  triumphing, 

And  by  her,  moody  and  downcast,  the  king. 

"And  now  her  heart  beat  quick  and  fast  indeed, 
Because  the  two  came,  doomed  that  day  to  bleed, 
Of  whom  went  Phryxus  in  most  manly  mood, 
Looking  around,  with  mournful,  steady  eyes, 
Upon  the  green  fields  arid  the  braveries, 
And  all  he  never  thought  to  see  again. 
But  Helle,  as  she  went,  could  not  refrain 
From  bitter  wailing  for  the  days  gone  by, 


32  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

When  hope  was  mixed  with  certain  misery; 
And,  when  the  long  day's  task  and  fear  was  done, 
She  might  take  pleasure  sometimes  in  the  sun, 
Whose  rays  she  saw  now  glittering  on  the  knife 
That  in  a  little  time  would  end  her  life. 

"  Now  she,  who  in  coarse  raiment  had  been  clad 
For  many  a  year,  upon  her  body  had, 
On  this  ill  day,  a  golden  pearl-wrought  gown, 
And  on  her  drooping  head  a  glittering  crown, 
And  jewelled  sandals  on  her  fainting  feet, 
And  on  her  neck  and  bosom  jewels  meet 
For  one  who  should  be  wedded  to  a  king ; 
Thus  to  her  death  went  moaning  this  sweet  thing. 

"  But  when  they  drew  a-nigh  the  temple  gate 
The  trembling,  weeping  mother,  laid  in  wait, 
Let  go  the  mighty  beast  upon  the  throng,  — 
Like  as  a  hunter  holds  the  gazehound  long, 
Until  the  great  buck  stalks  from  out  the  herd, 
And  then,  with  well-remembered  hunting  word, 
Slips  the  stout  leash,  —  so  did  she  slip  the  beast, 
Who  dashed  aside  both  singing-man  and  priest, 
And  girded  maiden,  and  the  startled  king, 
And  Ino,  grown  all  pale  to  see  the  thing, 
With  rising  horror  in  her  evil  heart. 
And  thereon  Phryxus,  seeing  the  crowd  part, 
And  this  deliverer  nigh  him,  with  wings  spread 
Heady  for  flight,  and  eager  threatening  head, 
Without  more  words,  upon  his  broad  back  sprung, 
And  drew  his  sister  after  him,  who  clung 
With  trembling  arms  about  him  ;  and  straightway 
They  turned  unto  the  rising  of  the  day, 
And  over  all  rose  up  into  the  air 
With  sounding  wings ;  nor  yet  did  any  dare, 
As  fast  they  flew,  to  bend  on  them  a  bow, 
Thinking  some  God  had  surely  willed  it  so. 


OF  JASON.  33 

"  Then  went  the  king  unto  his  house  again, 
And  Tno  with  him,  downcast  that  the  twain 
Had  so  escaped  her,  waiting  for  what  fate 
Should  bring  upon  her  doomed  head,  soon  or  late. 

"  Nor  long  she  waited  ;  for,  one  evil  day, 
Unto  the  king  her  glittering  gold  array 
And  rosy  flesh,  half  seen  through  raiment  thin, 
Seemed  like  the  many-spotted  leopard's  skin ; 
And  her  fair  hands  and  feet  like  armed  paws 
The  treacherous  beast  across  the  strained  throat  draws 
Of  some  poor  fawn  ;  and  when  he  saw  her  go 
Across  the  hall,  her  footsteps  soft  and  slow 
And  the  lithe  motion  of  her  body  fair 
But  made  him  think  of  some  beast  from  his  lair 
Stolen  forth  at  the  beginning  of  the  night. 

"  Therefore  with  fear  and  anger  at  the  sight 
He  shook,  being  maddened  by  some  dreadful  Clod ; 
And  stealthily  about  the  place  he  trod, 
Seeking  his  sword ;  and,  getting  it  to  hand, 
With  flaming  eyes  and  foaming  mouth  did  stand 
Awhile,  then  rushed  at  Ino  as  she  stood 
Trembling,  with  cheeks  all  drained  of  rosy  blood ; 
Who  straightway  caught  her  raiment  up,  and  fled 
Adown  the  streets,  where  once  she  had  been  led 
In  triumph  by  the  man  whose  well-known  cheer 
Close  at  her  heels,  now  struck  such  deadly  fear 
Into  her  heart,  the  forge  of  many  a  woe. 

"  So,  full  of  anguish,  panting  did  she  go 
O'er  rough  and  smooth,  till  field  and  wood  was  passed, 
And  on  the  border  of  the  sea  at  last, 
With  raiment  torn  and  unshod  feet,  she  stood, 
Reddening  the  flowering  sea-pink  with  her  blood. 

"  But  when  she  saw  the  tireless  hunter  nigh, 
All  wild  and  shouting,  with  a  dreadful  cry 
She  stretched  her  arms  out  seaward,  and  sprung  down 
Over  the  cliff  among  the  seaweed  brown 

4* 


34  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  washing  surf,  neither  did  any  one 
See  aught  of  her  again  beneath  the  sun. 

"  But  Athamas,  being  come  to  where  she  stood, 
Stared  vacantly  awhile  upon  the  blood, 
Then,  looking  seaward,  drew  across  his  eyes 
His  fevered  hand  :  and  thronging  memories 
Came  thick  upon  him,  until  dreamily 
He  turned  his  back  upon  the  hungry  sea, 
And  cast  his  sword  down  ;  and  so,  weaponless, 
Went  back,  half-waking  to  his  sore  distress. 

"As  for  the  twain,  —  perched  on  that  dizzy  height, 
The  white-walled  city  faded  from  their  sight, 
And  many  another  place  that  well  they  knew ; 
And  over  woods  and  meadows  still  they  flew  ; 
And  to  the  husbandmen  seemed  like  a  flame 
Blown  'twixt  the  earth  and  sky ;  until  they  came 
Unto  the  borders  of  the  murmuring  sea. 
Nor  stayed  they  yet,  but  flew  unceasingly, 
Till,  looking  back,  seemed  Pelion  like  a  cloud  ; 
And  they  beheld  the  white-topped  billows  crowd 
Unto  the  eastward,  'neath  the  following  wind. 

"  And  there  a  wretched  end  did  Helle  find 
Unto  her  life ;  for  when  she  did  behold, 
So  far  beneath,  the  deep  green  sea  and  cold, 
She  shut  her  eyes  for  horror  of  the  sight, 
Turning  the  sunny  day  to  mirk  midnight, 
Through  which  there  floated  many  an  awful  thing, 
Made  vocal  by  the  ceaseless  murmuring 
Beneath  her  feet ;  till  a  great  gust  of  wind 
Caught  the  beast's  wings  and  swayed  him  round ;  then, 

blind, 

J)izzy,  and  fainting,  grew  her  limbs  too  weak 
To  hold  their  place,  though  still  her  hands  did  seek 
Some  stay  by  catching  at  the  locks  of  gold; 
And  as  she  fell  her  brother  strove  to  hold 


OF  JASON.  35 

Her  jewelled  girdle,  but  the  treacherous  zone 
Broke  in  his  hand,  and  he  was  left  alone 
Upon  the  ram,  that,  as  a  senseless  thing, 
Still  flew  on  toward  the  east,  no  whit  heeding 
His  shouts  and  cries ;  but  Helle,  as  she  fell 
Down  through  the  depths,  the  sea-folk  guarded  well, 
And  kept  her  body  dead,  from  scar  or  wound, 
And  laid  it,  in  her  golden  robes  en  wound, 
Upon  the  south  side  of  the  murmuring  strait, 
That  still,  in  memory  of  her  piteous  fate, 
Bears  her  sweet  name  ;  her,  in  a  little  while, 
The  country  folk  beheld,  and  raised  a  pile 
Of  beech  and  oak,  with  scented  things  around, 
And,  lifting  up  the  poor  corpse  from  the  ground, 
Laid  it  thereon,  and  there  did  everything, 
As  for  the  daughter  of  a  mighty  king. 

"  But  through  the  straits  passed  Phryxus,  sad  enow, 
And  fearful  of  the  wind,  that  by  his  brow 
Went  shrieking,  as,  without  all  stop  or  stay, 
The  golden  wings  still  bore  him  on  his  way 
Above  the  unlucky  waves  of  that  ill  sea 
That  foamed  beneath  his  feet  unceasingly. 
Nor  knew  he  to  what  land  he  was  being  borne, 
Whether  he  should  be  set,  unarmed,  forlorn, 
In  darksome  lands,  among  unheard-of  things, 
Or,  stepping  off  from  'twixt  the  golden  wings, 
Should  set  foot  in  some  happy  summer  isle, 
Whereon  the  kind,  unburning  sun  doth  smile 
For  ever,  and  that  knows  no  frost  or  drought ; 
Or  else,  it  seemed  to  him,  he  might  be  brought 
Unto  green  forests  where  the  wood-nymphs  play 
With  their  wild  mates,  and  fear  no  coming  day. 
And  there  might  he  forget  both  crown  and  sword, 
And  e'en  the  names  of  slave,  and  king,  and  lord, 
And  lead  a  merry  life,  till  all  was  done, 
And  'mid  the  green  boughs,  marked  by  no  carved  stone, 


36  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

His  unremembered  bones  should  waste  away, 
In  dew,  and  rain,  and  sunshine,  day  by  day. 

"  So,  'mid  these  thoughts,  still  clinging  fearfully 
Unto  his  dizzy  seat,  he  passed  the  sea, 
And  reached  a  river  opening  into  it, 
Across  the  which  the  white-winged  fowl  did  flit 
From  cliff  to  cliff,  and  on  the  sandy  bar 
The  fresh  waves  and  the  salt  waves  were  at  war, 
At  turning  of  the  tide.     Forth  flew  they  then, 
Till  they  drew  nigh  a  strange  abode  of  men, 
Far  up  the  river,  white-walled,  fair,  and  great, 
And  at  eac  i  end  of  it  a  brazen  gate, 
Wide  open  through  the  daylight,  guarded  well, 
And  nothing  of  its  name  could  Phryxus  tell, 
But  hoped  the  beast  would  stop,  for  to  his  eyes 
The  place  seemed  fair  ;  nor  fell  it  otherwise. 
There  stayed  the  ram  his  course,  and  lighted  down 
Hard  by  the  western  gate  of  that  fair  town, 
And  on  the  hard  way  Phryxus  joyfully 
Set  foot,  full  dizzy  with  the  murmuring  sea, 
Numbed  by  the  cold  wind ;  and,  with  little  fear, 
Unto  the  guarded  gate  he  drew  anear, 
While  the  gold  beast  went  ever  after  him. 

"  But  they,  beholding  him  so  strong  of  limb, 
And  fair  of  face,  and  seeing  the  beast  that  trod 
Behind  his  back,  deemed  him  some  wandering  God, 
So  let  the  two-edged  sword  hang  by  the  side, 
And  by  the  wall  the  well-steeled  spears  abide. 

"  But  he  called  out  to  them,  '  What  place  is  this  'i 
And  who  rules  over  you  for  woe  or  bliss  ? 
And  will  he  grant  me  peace  to-day  or  war  'I 
And  may  I  here  abide,  or  still  afar 
Must  I  to  new  abodes  go  wandering? ' 

"  Now  as  he  spake  those  words,  that  city's  king 
Adown  the  street  was  drawing  towards  the  gate, 
Clad  in  gold  raiment  worthy  his  estate  : 


OF  JASON.  37 

Therefore  one  said  :   '  Behold  our  king  is  here, 

Who  of  all  us  is  held  both  lief  and  dear ; 

.^Eetes,  leader  of  a  mighty  host, 

Feared  by  all  folk  along  the  windy  coast. 

And  since  this  city's  name  thou  fain  wouldst  know, 

Men  call  it  ./Ea,  built  long  years  ago, 

Holpen  of  many  Gods,  who  love  it  well. 

Now  come  thou  to  the  king,  and  straightly  tell 

Thy  name  and  country,  if  thou  art  a  man, 

And  how  thou  earnest  o'er  the  water  wan, 

And  what  the  marvel  is  thou  hast  with  thee ; 

But  if  thou  art  a  God,  then  here  will  we 

Build  thee  a  house,  and,  reverencing  thy  name, 

Bring  thee  great  gifts  and  much-desired  fame.' 

"  Thus  spake  he,  fearful ;  but  by  this  the  king 
Had  reached  the  place,  and  stood  there  wondering 
At  that  strange  beast  and  fair  man  richly  clad, 
Who  at  his  belt  no  sort  of  weapon  had  ; 
Then  spoke  he  :   '  Who  art  thou,  in  what  strange  wain 
Hast  thou  crossed  o'er  the  green  and  restless  plain 
Unharvested  of  any  ?     And  this  thing, 
That  like  an  image  stands  with  folded  wing, 
Is  he  a  gift  to  thee  from  any  God, 
Or  hast  thou  in  some  unknown  country  trod, 
Where  beasts  are  such-like  ?     Howsoe'er  it  be, 
Here  shalt  thou  dwell,  if  so  thou  wilt,  with  me, 
Unless  some  God  is  chasing  thee,  and  then, 
What  wouldst  thou  have  us  do,  who  are  but  men, 
Against  the  might  of  Gods  ?  ' 

Then  answered  he  : 

'  0  king,  I  think  no  God  is  wroth  with  me, 
But  rather  some  one  loves  me  ;  for,  behold, 
A  while  ago,  just  as  my  foe  did  hold 
The  knife  against  my  throat,  there  came  this  ram, 
Who  brought  me  to  the  place  where  now  I  am 
Safe  from  the  sea  and  from  the  bitter  knife. 


38  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  in  this  city  would  I  spend  my  life, 
And  do  what  service  seemeth  good  to  thee, 
Since  all  the  Gods  it  pleases  I  should  be 
Outcast  from  friends  and  country,  though  alive  ; 
Nor  with  their  will  have  I  the  heart  to  strive 
More  than  thou  hast ;  and  now  as  in  such  wise 
I  have  been  saved,  fain  would  I  sacrifice 
This  beast  to  Jove,  the  helper  of  all  such, 
As  false  friends  fail,  or  foes  oppress*  too  much.' 

"  '  Yea,'  said  ^Eetes,  '  so  the  thing  shall  be 
In  whatsoever  fashion  pleaseth  thee  ; 
And  long  time  mayst  thou  dwell  with  us  in  bliss, 
Not  doing  any  service  worse  than  this, 
To  bear  in  war  my  royal  banner  forth, 
When  fall  the  wild  folk  on  us  from  the  north. 
Come  now  this  eve,  and  hold  high  feast  with  us, 
And  tell  us  all  of  strange  and  piteous 
Thy  story  hath.' 

So  went  he  with  the  king, 
And  gladly  told  unto  him  everything 
That  had  befallen  him,  and  in  a  grove, 
Upon  the  altar  of  the  Saving  Jove, 
They  offered  up  the  ram  the  morrow  morn 
That  thitherward  the  Theban  prince  had  borne. 

"  And  thenceforth  Phryxus  dwelt  in  Colchis  long 
In  wealth  and  honour,  and,  being  brave  and  strong, 
Won  great  renown  in  many  a  bloody  fray, 
And  still  grew  greater ;  and  both  night  and  day, 
Within  his  pillared  house,  upon  the  wall 
Hung  the  gold  fell;  until  it  did  befall 
That  in  ^Eetes'  heart  a  longing  grew 
To  have  the  thing,  yea,  even  if  he  slew 
His  guest  to  get  it ;  so,  one  evil  night, 
While  the  prince  lay  and  dreamed  about  the  fight, 
With  all  armed  men  was  every  entry  filled, 
And  quickly  were  the  few  doorkeepers  killed  ; 


OF  JASON.  39 

And  Pbryxus,  roused  with  clamour  from  his  bed, 
Half-armed  and  dizzy,  with  few  strokes  was  dead. 
And  thus  the  King  ^Eetes  had  his  will ; 
And  thus  the  GOLDEN  FLEECE  he  keepeth  still 
Somewhere  within  his  royal  house  of  gold. 

"  And  thus,  0  Minyaj,  is  the  story  told 
Of  things  that  happened  forty  years  agone  ; 
Nor  of  the  Greeks  has. there  been  any  one 
To  set  the  Theban's  bones  within  a  tomb, 
Or  to  ^Eetes  mete  out  his  due  doom ; 
And  yet,  indeed,  it  seemeth  unto  me 
That  many  a  man  would  go  right  willingly, 
And  win  great  thanks  of  men  and  godlike  fame, 
If  there  should  spring  up  some  great  prince  of  name 
To  lead  them  ;  and  1  pray  that  such  an  one, 
Before  my  head  is  laid  beneath  a  stone, 
Be  sent  unto  us  by  the  Gods  above." 

Therewith  he  ceased ;  but  all  the  hall  did  move 
As  moves  a  grove  of  rustling  poplar  trees 
Bowed  all  together  by  the  shifting  breeze, 
And  through  the  place  the  name  of  Jason  ran, 
Nor,  'mid  the  feasters,  was  there  any  man 
But  toward  the  hero's  gold-seat  turned  his  eyes. 

Meanwhile,  in  Jason's  heart,  did  thoughts  arise 
That  brought  the  treacherous  blood  into  his  cheek, 
And  he  forgot  his  father,  old  and  weak, 
Left  'twixt  the  fickle  people  of  the  land, 
And  wily  Pelias,  while  he  clenched  his  hand, 
As  though  it  held  a  sword,  about  his  cup. 

Then,  'mid  the  murmuring,  Pelias  stood  up 
And  said :  "  0,  leaders  of  the  Minyse, 
I  hear  ye  name  a  name  right  dear  to  me  — 
My  brother's  son,  who  in  the  oaken  wood 
Has  grown  up  nurtured  of  the  Centaur  good, 


40  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  now  this  day  has  conic  again  to  us, 

Fair  faced  and  mighty  limbed,  and  amorous 

Of  fame  and  glorious  deeds ;  nowise  content 

Betwixt  the  forest  and  the  northern  bent 

To  follow  up  the  antlers  of  the  deer, 

Nor  in  his  eyes  can  I  see  any  fear 

Of  fire,  or  water,  or  the  cleaving  sword. 

"  Now,  therefore,  if  ye  take  him  for  your  lord 
Across  the  sea,  then  surely  ye  will  get 
Both  fame  and  wealth,  nor  will  men  soon  forget 
To  praise  the  noble  city  whence  ye  came, 
Passing  from  age  to  age  each  hero's  name." 

Then  all  stood  up  and  shouted,  and  the  kin;:, 
While  yet  the  hall  with  Jason's  name  did  ring, 
Set  in  his  hands  a  gleaming  cup  of  gold, 
And  said  :   "0  Jason,  wilt  thou  well  behold 
These  leaders  of  the  people,  who  are  fain 
To  go  with  thee  and  suffer  many  a  pain 
And  deadly  fear,  if  they  may  win  at  last 
Undying  fame  when  fleeting  life  is  past  ? 
And  now,  if  thou  art  willing  to  be  first 
Of  all  these  men,  of  whom,  indeed,  the  worst 
Is  like  a  God,  pour  out  this  gleaming  wine 
To  him  with  whose  light  all  the  heavens  shine, 
Almighty  Jove." 

Then  Jason  poured,  and  said  : 
"  0  Jove,  by  thy  hand  may  all  these  be  led 
To  name  and  wealth  !  and  yet,  indeed,  for  me, 
What  happy  ending  shall  I  ask  from  thee? 
What  helpful  friends  'I  what  length  of  quiet  years  ? 
What  freedom  from  ill  care  and  deadly  fears  V 
Do  what  thou  wilt,  but  none  the  less  believe 
That  all  these  things  and  more  thou  shouldst  receive, 
If  thou  wert  Jason,  I  were  Jove  to-day. 

"  And  ye  who  now  are  hot  to  play  this  play, 
Seeking  the  fleece  across  an  unknown  sea, 


OF  JASON.  41 

Bethink  ye  yet  of  death,  and  misery, 
And  dull  despair,  before  ye  arm  to  go 
Unto  a  savage  king  and  folk  none  know, 
Whence  it  may  well  hap  none  of  ye  to  come 
Again  unto  your  little  ones  and  home. 

"  And  do  thou,  Pelias,  ere  we  get  us  forth, 
Send  heralds  out,  east,  west,  and  south,  and  north, 
And  with  them  cunning  men,  of  golden  speech, 
Thy  tale  unto  the  Grecian  folk  to  teach ; 
That  we  may  lack  for  neither  strength  nor  wit, 
For  many  a  brave  man  like  a  fool  will  sit 
Beside  the  council  board  ;  and  men  there  are 
Wise-hearted  who  know  little  feats  of  war  ; 
Nor  would  I  be  without  the  strength  of  spears, 
Or  waste  wise  words  on  dull  and  foolish  ears. 

"Also  we  need  a  cunning  artisan, 
Taught  by  the  Gods,  and  knowing  more  than  man, 
To  build  us  a  good  ship  upon  this  shore. 
Then,  if  but  ten  lay  hold  upon  the  oar, 
And  I,  the  eleventh,  steer  them  toward  the  east, 
To  seek  the  hidden  fleece  of  that  gold  beast, 
I  swear  to  Jove  that  only  in  my  hand 
The  fleece  shall  be,  when  I  again  take  land 
To  see  my  father's  hall,  or  the  green  grass 
O'er  which  the  grey  Thessalian  horses  pass. 

"  But  now,  0  friends,  forget  all  till  the  morn 
With  other  thoughts  and  fears  is  duly  born  !  " 

He  ceased,  and  all  men  shouted  ;  and  again 
They  filled  their  cups,  and  many  a  draught  did  drain. 
But  Pelias  gazed  with  heedful  eyes  at  him, 
Nor  drank  the  wine  that  well-nigh  touched  the  brim 
Of  his  gold  cup ;  and,  noting  every  word, 
Thought  well  that  he  should  be  a  mighty  lord, 
For  now  already  like  a  king  he  spoke, 
Gazing  upon  the  wild  tumultuous  folk 


42  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

As  one  who  knows  what  troubles  are  to  come, 
And  in  this  world  looks  for  no  peaceful  home,  — 
So  much  he  dreaded  what  the  Gods  might  do. 

But  ^Eson,  when  he  first  heard  Pelias,  knew 
What  wile  was  stirring,  and  he  sat  afeard, 
With  sinking  heart,  as  all  the  tale  he  heard ; 
But  after,  hearkening  what  his  son  did  say, 
He  deemed  a  God  spoke  through  him  on  that  day, 
And  held  his  peace  ;  yet  to  himself  he  said : 
"And  if  he  wins  all,  still  shall  I  be  dead 
Ere  on  the  shore  he  stands  beside  the  fleece, 
The  greatest  and  most  honoured  man  in  Greece." 

But  Jason,  much  rejoicing  in  his  life, 
Drank  and  was  merry,  longing  for  the  strife ; 
Though  in  his  heart  he  did  not  fail  to  see 
His  uncle's  cunning  wiles  and  treachery ; 
But  thought,  when  sixty  years  are  gone,  at  most, 
Then  will  all  pleasure  and  all  pain  be  lost ; 
Although  my  name,  indeed,  be  cast  about 
From  hall  to  temple,  amid  song  and  shout : 
So  let  me  now  be  merry  with  the  best. 

Meanwhile  all  men  spoke  hotly  of  the  quest, 
And  healths  they  drank  to  many  an  honoured  man, 
Until  the  moon  sank,  and  the  stars  waxed  wan, 
And  from  the  east  faint  yellow  light  outshone 
O'er  the  Greek  sea,  so  many  years  agone. 


BOOK    III. 

NOW,  the  next  morn,  when  risen  was  the  sun, 
Men  'gan  to  busk  them  for  the  quest  begun ; 
Nor  long  delay  made  Pelias,  being  in  fear 
Lest  aught  should  stay  them ;  so  his  folk  did  bear 


OF  JASON.  43 

News  of  these  things  throughout  the  towns  of  Greece, 
Moving  great  men  to  seek  the  golden  fleece. 

Therefore,  from  many  a  lordship  forth  they  rode, 
Leaving  both  wife  and  child  and  loved  abode, 
And  many  a  town  must  now  be  masterless, 
And  women's  voices  rule  both  more  and  less, 
And  women's  hands  be  dreaded  far  and  wide, 
This  fair  beginning  of  the  summer-tide. 

Now,  all  the  folk  who  went  upon  this  quest 
I  cannot  name,  but  fain  would  hope  the  best 
In  men's  remembrance  ancient  tales  did  keep 
Unto  our  time,  letting  the  others  sleep 
In  nameless  graves  —  though,  mayhap,  one  by  one 
These  grew  to  be  forgotten  'neath  the  sun, 
Being  neither  poor  of  heart  or  weak  of  wit, 
More  than  those  others  whose  crowned  memories 
Enthroned  amid  the  echoing  minstrelsy 
Sung  of  old  time  beside  the  Grecian  sea. 

Howe'er  it  be,  now  clinging  to  the  hem 
Of  those  old  singers,  will  I  tell  of  them, 
In  weak  and  faltering  voice,  e'en  as  I  can. 

Now  was  the  well-skilled  Argus  the  first  man 
Who  through  the  gates  into  lolchos  passed, 
Whose  lot  in  fertile  Egypt  first  was  cast, 
The  nurse  of  Gods  and  wonder-working  men  ; 
His  father's  name  was  Danaus,  who  till  then 
Had  held  the  golden  rod  above  the  Nile, 
Feared  by  all  men  for  force  and  deadly  wile. 

So  he,  being  brought  to  Jason,  said  :   "0  King, 
Me  have  the  Gods  sent  here  to  do  the  thing 
Ye  need  the  most;  for  truly  have  I  seen, 
'Twixt  sleep  and  waking,  one  clad  like  a  queen, 
About  whose  head  strange  lights  shone  gloriously, 
Stand  at  my  bed's  foot,  and  she  said  to  me  : 
'Argus,  arise,  when  dawn  is  on  the  earth, 


44  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  go  unto  a  city  great  of  girth 
Men  call  lolchos,  and  there  ask  for  one 
Who  now  gets  ready  a  great  race  to  run 
Upon  a  steed  whose  maker  thou  shalt  be, 
And  whose  course  is  the  bitter,  trackless  sea,  — 
Jason,  the  king's  son,  now  himself  a  king ;  — 
And  bid  him  hearken,  by  this  tokening, 
That  I,  who  send  thee  to  him,  am  the  same 
Who  in  the  greenwood  bade  him  look  for  fame 
That  lie  desired  little  ;  and  am  she 
Who,  when  the  eddies  rushed  tumultuously 
About  us,  bore  him  to  the  river  side  :  — 
And  unto  thee  shall  such-like  things  betide.' 

"  Therewith  she  told  me  many  a  crafty  thing 
About  this  keel  that  ye  are  now  lacking, 
Bidding  me  take  thee  for  my  king  and  lord, 
And  thee  to  heed  my  counsel  as  her  word 
As  for  this  thing.     So  if  ye  would  set  forth 
Before  the  winter  takes  us  from  the  north, 
I  pray  you,  let  there  be  at  my  commands 
Such  men  as  are  most  skilful  of  their  hands ; 
Nor  spare  to  take  lintel,  rooftree,  or  post, 
Of  ash  or  pine,  or  oak  that  helpeth  most, 
From  whoso  in  this  city  lacketh  gold ; 
And  chiefly  take  the  post  that  now  doth  hold 
The  second  rafter  in  the  royal  hall, 
That  I  may  make  the  good  ship's  prow  withal, 
For  soothly  from  Dodona  doth  it  come, 
Though  men  forget  it,  the  grey  pigeons'  home. 

"  So  look  to  see  a  marvel,  and  forthright 
Set  on  the  smiths  the  sounding  brass  to  smite  ; 
For  surely  shall  all  ye  your  armour  need 
Before  these  flower-buds  have  turned  to  seed." 

Then  Jason  gave  him  thanks  and  gifts  enow, 
And  through  the  town  sought  all  who  chanced  to  know. 
The  wood wright's  craft,  by  whom  was  much  begun, 


OF  JASON.  45 

Whilst  he  took  gifts  of  wood  from  many  an  one ; 
And  getting  timber  with  great  gifts  of  gold, 
Spared  not  to  take  the  great  post  used  to  hold 
The  second  rafter  in  the  royal  hall 
To  make  the  new  ship's  goodly  prow  withal. 

So  Argiis  laboured,  and  the  work  was  sped, 
Moreover,  by  a  man  with  hoary  head, 
Whose  dwelling  and  whose  name  no  man  could  know, 
Who  many  a  strange  thing  of  the  craft  did  show, 
And  'mid  their  work  men  gazed  at  him  askance, 
Half  fearful  of  his  reverend  piercing  glance, 
But  did  his  bidding  ;  yet  knew  not,  indeed, 
It  was  the  Queen  of  Heaven,  Saturn's  seed. 

Meanwhile  came  many  heroes  to  the  town  :  — 
Asterion,  dweller  on  the  windy  down 
Below  Philscus,  far  up  in  the  north  ; 
Slow-footed  Polyphemus,  late  borne  forth 
In  chariot  from  Larissa,  that  beholds 
Green-winding  Peneus  cleaving  fertile  wolds ; 
Erginus,  son  of  Neptune,  nigh  the  sea 
His  father  sent  him,  where  the  laden  bee 
Flies  low  across  Maeander,  and  falls  down 
Against  the  white  walls  of  a  merchant  town 
Men  call  Miletus. 

Behind  him  there  came 
The  winter  of  a  great  and  dreaded  name, 
Theseus,  the  slayer  of  the  fearful  beast, 
Who  soon  in  winding  halls  should  make  his  feast 
On  youths  and  maidens  ;  and  with  him  there  rode 
The  king,  Pirithous,  who  his  loved  abode 
Amid  the  shady  trees  had  left  that  tide 
Where  fly  the  centaurs'  arrows  far  and  wide. 

Black-haired  was  Theseus,  slim,  and  still  his  cheek 
Lacked  all  but  down,  for  yet  he  had  to  seek 

5* 


46  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  twisted  ways  of  Daedalus  the  old  ; 
But  long  and  twining  locks  of  ruddy  gold 
Blew  round  the  face  of  the  huge  forest  king, 
As  carelessly  he  rode  and  feared  no  thing. 

Great  joy  had  Jason,  gazing  on  the  twain, 
Young  though  they  were,  and  thought  that  not  in  vain 
His  quest  should  be,  if  such  as  these  had  will 
The  hollow  of  his  great  black  ship  to  fill. 

Next,  threading  Argive  ways  and  woody  lanes, 
Came  Nauplius,  son  of  Neptune,  to  those  plains, 
Crossing  Anaurus  dryshod,  for  his  sire 
With  threats  and  blows  drove  up  the  land-stream  higher, 
And  sucked  the  sea-waves  back  across  the  sands ; 
With  him  came  Idmon,  mighty  of  his  hands, 
But  mightier  that  he  was  skilled  to  know 
The  counsel  of  the  God  who  bears  the  bow, 
His  very  father,  who  bore  not  to  see 
Unloved,  Cyrene,  wandering  carelessly 
Beside  the  Peneus  ;  lolaus  came 
From  Argos,  too,  to  win  a  deathless  name  ; 
And  if  thenceforth  came  any  heroes  more 
I  know  not,  and  their  names  have  died  of  yore. 

But  from  Arcadian  forests  came  forth  one 
Who  like  a  goddess  'mid  the  rowers  shone, 
Swift-running' Atalanta,  golden-haired, 
Grey-eyed,  and  simple ;  with  her  white  limbs  bared, 
And  sandalled  feet  set  firm  upon  the  sand. 
Amid  the  wondering  heroes  did  she  stand 
A  very  maid,  yet  fearing  not  for  aught ; 
For  she,  with  many  a  vow,  had  dearly  bought 
Diana's  love,  and  in  no  flowery  stead 
Had  borne  to  hear  love-songs,  or  laid  her  head 
On  any  trembling  lover's  heaving  breast; 
Therefore  of  mortals  was  she  loved  the  best 
By  Her,  who  through  the  forest  goes  a-nights, 
And,  in  return  for  never-tried  delights, 
Has  won  a  name  no  woman  else  can  have. 


OF  JASON.  47 

Next  through  the  gates  his  car  Oileus  drave, 
The  Locrain  king,  red-haired,  with  fierce  grey  eyes 
Wandering  from  right  to  left,  as  though  some  prize 
He  sought  for  in  the  rich  Thessalian  land ; 
Then  Iphiclus  beside  the  gates  did  stand, 
His  kine  at  all  adventure  left  at  home, 
That  on  a  doubtful  voyage  he  might  roam. 

Admetus  from  the  well-walled  Pherss  came, 
Longing  to  add  new  glory  to  the  fame 
Of  him  whose  flocks  Apollo  once  did  keep. 
And  then  Echion,  who  would  nowise  sleep 
Amid  Ephesian  roses,  or  behold 
Betwixt  gold  cups  and  dainty  things  of  gold 
The  white  limbs  of  the  dancing-girl,  her  hair 
Swung  round  her  dainty  loins  and  bosom  bare  ; 
But  needs  must  try  the  hollow-sounding  sea, 
As  herald  of  the  heroes,  nor  was  he 
Left  by  his  brother  Eurytus  the  strong. 

Neither  did  Cseneus,  the  Magnesian,  long 
Less  than  the  others  strange  new  lands  to  see, 
Though  wondrous  things  were  told  of  him,  —  that 
he, 

Once  woman,  now  was  man  by  Neptune's  aid, 

And  thus  had  won  a  long-desired  maid. 
From  nigh  Larissa  came  ^Etalides, 

Leaving  a  plain  well-watered,  set  with  trees, 

That  feeds  much  woolly  sheep  and  lowing  neat, 

And  knoweth  well  the  dancing  maiden's  feet. 

Mopsus,  like  Idmon,  knew  of  things  to  come, 

And  had  in  Lipara  a  rocky  home. 

Eurydamas,  tired  of  the  peaceful  lake 

Of  Xynias,  was  come  for  Jason's  sake 

To  lay  his  well-skilled  hands  upon  the  oar, 

Dealing  with  greater  waves  than  heretofore. 
Menoatius,  son  of  Actor,  from  the  land 

Where  swift  Asopus  runs  through  stones  and  sand, 


48  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

Bridged  by  the  street  of  Opus,  next  was  seen. 

Eribotes,  who  through  the  meadows  green 

Would  wander  oft  to  seek  what  helpeth  man  ; 

Yet  cannot  cure  his  lust,  through  waters  wan 

To  seek  for  marvels,  cometh  after  him. 

Then  a  rich  man,  grown  old,  but  strong  of  limb, 

Eurytion,  son  of  Iras,  leaveth  now 

His  husbandmen  still  following  of  the  plough 

In  the  fat  Thcban  meadows,  while  he  goes, 

Driven  by  fate,  to  suffer  biting  woes. 

From  (Echalia,  Clytius  the  king, 
And  Iphitus  his  brother,  felt  the  sting 
That  drives  great  men  through  woes  to  seek  renown, 
And  left  their  guarded  city,  looking  down 
From  rocky  heights  on  the  well- watered  plain. 
Ixight  wise  they  were,  and  men  say,  not  in  vain 
Before  Apollo's  court  they  claimed  to  be 
The  first  who  strung  the  fatal  cornel  tree, 
And  loosed  the  twanging  bowstring  from  the  ear. 

Then  to  the  gate  a  chariot  drew  a-near, 
Wherein  two  brothers  sat,  whereof  the  one 
Who  held  the  reins  was  mighty  Telamon  ; 
And  Peleus  was  the  other's  dreaded  name. 
And  from  an  island  both  the  heroes  came, 
Sunny  ^Egina,  where  their  father's  hand 
Ruled  o'er  the  people  of  a  fruitful  land  ; 
But  they  now  young,  rejoicing  in  their  birth, 
Dreamed  not  that,  ere  they  lay  beneath  the  earth, 
Still  greater  heroes  from  their  loins  should  come, 
The  doomsmen  of  the  Trojan's  godlike  home. 

Fair  Athens,  and  the  olive  groves  thereby, 
Phalerus  left,  riding  through  deserts  dry 
And  rocky  passes  where  no  sweet  birds  sing ; 
And  with  him  Butes,  with  the  owlet's  wing 
Well-painted  on  his  shield  ;  and  he,  at  least, 
Came  back  no  more  to  share  the  joyous  feast 


OF  JASON.  49 

And  pour  out  wine  for  well  accomplished  days, 
Who,  all  besotted  with  the  Syren's  lays, 
Must  leave  his  mates  ;  nor  happier  than  he, 
Tiphys  the  pilot  came,  although  the  sea 
Dealt  gently  with  the  ship  whose  ashen  helm 
His  hand  touched  ;  in  the  rich  Boeotian  realm, 
He  left  outlandish  merceries  stored  up 
With  many  a  brazen  bowl  and  silver  cup 
His  heirs  should  feast  from  in  the  days  to  come, 
When  men  lie  knew  not  went  about  his  home. 

Next  Pblias  came,  forgetful  of  the  hill 
That  bears  his  name,  where  oft  the  maidens  fill 
Their  baskets  with  the  coal-black  clustering  grapes, 
Far  on  in  autumn,  when  the  parched  earth  gapes 
For  cool  November  rain  and  winter  snow, 
For  there  his  house  stood,  on  the  shaded  brow 
Of  that  fair  ridge  that  Bacchus  loves  so  well. 

Then  through  the  gates  one  with  a  lion's  fell 
Hung  o'er  his  shoulders,  on  a  huge  grey  steed 
Came  riding,  with  his  fair  Phoenician  weed 
Glittering  from  underneath  the  tawny  hair, 
Who  loosely  in  his  dreadful  hand  did  bear 
A  club  of  unknown  wood  bound  round  with  brass, 
And  underneath  his  curled  black  hair  did  pass 
A  golden  circlet  overwrought  cunningly 
With  running  beasts ;  so  folk  knew  this  was  he 
That  in  Amphytrion's  palace  first  saw  light, 
And  whose  first  hour  began  with  deadly  fight, 
Alcinena's  son,  the  dreadful  Hercules ; 
The  man  whose  shout  the  close  Nemean  trees 
Had  stifled,  and  the  lion  met  in  vain  ; 
Thr  ravisher  of  hell,  the  serpent's  bane, 
Wrhom  neither  Gods  nor  fate  could  overwhelm. 

Now  was  he  come  to  this  Thessalian  realm 
To  serve  with  Jason  on  the  wandering  seas, 
Half  seeking  fame,  half  wishing  to  appease 


50  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  wrath  of  her  who  grudged  him  ease  and  rest, 
Yet  needs  must  see  him,  of  all  men  the  best. 
Laughing  he  went,  and  with  him  on  each  hand 
There  rode  a  squire  from  the  Thebau  land ; 
Hylas  was  first,  whose  sire,  Theodamas, 
Had  given  him  worthy  gifts  of  gold  and  brass, 
And  gold-wrought  arms,  that  he  should  see  no  more 
Glittering  along  the  green  Ismenian  shore. 
With  him  Ephebus  came,  who  many  a  year 
Had  backed  the  steed  and  cast  the  quivering  spear 
In  Theban  meadows,  but  whose  fathers  came 
From  Argos,  and  thereby  had  left  their  name. 

So  through  the  streets  liko  Gods  they  rode,  but  lie 
Who  rode  the  midmost  of  the  glorious  three 
O'ertopped  them  by  a  head  ;  and  looking  down 
With  smiling  face,  whereon  it  seemed  no  frown 
Could  ever  come,  showed  like  the  king  of  all. 

Now  coming  to  the  palace,  by  the  wall 
Sat  Jason,  watching  while  an  armourer  wrought 
A  golden  crest  according  to  his  thought ; 
And  round  about  the  heroes  were  at  play, 
Casting  the  quoit ;  but  on  the  well-paved  way. 
With  clanging  arms,  leapt  down  Alcmena's  son 
Before  the  prince,  and  said  :  "I  who  have  won 
Some  small  renown,  0  Jason,  in  this  land, 
Come  now  to  put  my  hand  within  your  hand 
And  be  your  man,  if  wide  report  says  true, 
That  even  now  with  cinnabar  and  blue 
Men  paint  your  long  ship's  prow,  and  shave  the  oars 
With  sharpened  planes  ;  for  sooth ly,  other  shores 
I  fain  would  see  than  this  fair  Grecian  one, 
Wherein  great  deeds  already  I  have  done : 
And  if  thou  wiliest  now  to  hear  my  name, 
A  Theban  queen  my  mother  once  became, 
And  had  great  honour ;  wherefore  some  men  say 


OF  JASON.  51 

That  in  Amphytrion'a  bed  my  mother  lay 
When  I  was  gotten  ;  and  yet  other  some 
Say  that  a  God  upon  that  night  did  come 
(Whose  name  I  speak  not),  like  unto  the  king, 
With  whom  Alcmena  played,  but  nought  witting. 

"  Nor  I,  nor  others  know  the  certainty 
Of  all  these  things  ;  but  certes,  royally 
My  brother  rules  at  Thebes,  whom  all  men  call 
Amphytrion's  son,  in  whose  well-peopled  hall 
Ever  am  I  the  least  loved  guest  of  all, 
Though,  since  my  name  is  Hercules,  the  man 
Who  owes  me  hatred  hides  it  if  he  can. 

"  And  now,  0  prince,  I  bid  thee  take  my  hand, 
And  hear  me  swear  that  till  unto  this  land 
Thou  hast  borne  back  the  fleece  across  the  sea, 
Thy  liege-man  and  thy  servant  I  will  be. 
Nor  have  I  seen  a  man  more  like  a  king 
Than  thou  art,  of  whom  minstrel  folk  shall  sing 
In  days  to  come  when  men  sit  by  the  wine." 

Then  Jason  said  :  "A  happy  lot  is  mine  ! 
Surely  the  Gods  must  love  me,  since  that  thou 
Art  come,  with  me  the  rough  green  plain  to  plough 
That  no  man  reaps  ;  yet  certes,  thou  alone 
In  after  days  shalt  be  the  glorious  one 
Whom  men  shall  sing  of  when  they  name  the  fleece 
That  bore  the  son  of  Athamas  from  Greece, 
When  I  and  all  these  men  have  come  to  nought." 

So  spake  he  ;  but  the  great-eyed  Juno  brought 
His  words  to  nothing,  stooping  to  behold 
Jason's  fair  head,  whereon  the  locks  of  gold 
Curled  thick  and  close,  and  his  grey  eager  eyes, 
That  seemed  already  to  behold  the  prize 
In  far-off  Colchis,  like  a  God  he  stood, 
No  less  than  he  that  in  the  darksome  wood 
Slew  the  lake-haunting,  many-headed  beast. 


52  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  on  that  day  the  Minytc  held  a  feast, 
Praising  the  Gods,  arid  those  that  they  had  sent 
Across  the  sea  to  work  out  their  intent. 

Yea,  ere  the  night,  greater  their  joyance  grew, 
For  to  the  throng  of  heroes  carne  there  two, 
In  nowise  worse  than  any  of  the  best,  — 
Castor  and  Pollux,  who  thought  not  to  rest 
In  woody  Lacedaemon,  where  the  doves 
Make  summer  music  in  the  beechen  groves, 
But  rather  chose  to  hear  the  sea-fowl  sing. 

Their  mother  wedded  Tyndarus  the  king. 
And  yet  a  greater  name  their  father  had, 
As  men  deem  ;  for  that  Leda,  all  unclad, 
In  cold  Eurotas,  on  a  summer  morn, 
Bathed  her  fair  body,  unto  whom  was  borne, 
Fleeing  from  seeming  death,  a  milk-white  swan, 
Whom  straight  the  naked  queen,  not  fearing  man, 
Took  in  her  arms,  nor  knew  she  fostered  Jove, 
Who  rules  o'er  mortal  men  and  Gods  above. 

So  in  the  hall  of  Pelias,  in  their  place 
The  twain  sat  down  ;  and  joy  lit  every  face, 
When  both  their  names  the  sweet- voiced  herald  cried. 
But  the  next  morn  into  the  town  did  ride 
Lynceus  and  Idas,  leaving  far  away 
Well-walled  Messene  where  the  kestrels  play 
About  the  temples  and  the  treasure-house. 
But  of  these  twain  was  Idas  valorous 
Beyond  most  men,  and  hasty  of  his  blow ; 
And  unto  Lynceus  would  the  darkness  show 
That  which  he  lacked  ;  and  of  all  men  was  he 
The  luckiest  to  find  the  priyity 
Of  gold  or  gems.     And  on  the  self-same  day 
Came  Periclymenes,  who  folk  did  say 
Had  Proteus'  gift  to  change  from  shape  to  shape. 

Next  from  Tegea,  where  the  long  green  grape 


OF  JASON.  53 

Grows  yellow  in  the  dewy  autumn  night, 
There  came  Ancaeus,  stubborn  in  the  fight. 

Amphidamus  and  Apheus  left  the  trees 
Where  sing  the  wood-doves  to  their  mistresses 
In  the  Arcadian  forests ;  and  where  oft, 
If  through  the  springing  brake  he  treadeth  soft, 
The  happy  hunter  may  well  chance  to  see 
Beside  a  hidden  stream  some  two  or  three 
Of  tired  nymphs,  stripping  the  silken  weed 
From  off  their  limbs ;  nor  shall  Acteon's  meed 
Betide  him  there  among  the  oaken  trees. 

Next  came  there  Augeas,  who  at  Elis  sees 
On  his  fat  plains  the  sheep,  and  kine,  and  beeves, 
Unnumbered  as  the  rustling  aspen  leaves 
Beside  the  river  :  from  the  grassy  plain 
Anigh  Pellene,  where  the  harvest  wain 
Scatters  the  grazing  sheep,  Amphion  came, 
In  nowise  skilled  like  him  who  bore  his  name, 
The  deathless  singer,  but  right  wise  in  war. 
Then  through  the  town  there  passed  a  brazen  car 
Bearing  Euphemus,  who  had  power  to  go 
Dryshod  acioss  the  plain  no  man  dorh  sow. 
By  Tenarus  he  dwelt,  beside  the  sea, 
Anigh  the  temple  of  the  deity 
Whose  son  he  was,  the  shaker  of  the  earth. 

Then  came  a  fresh  Ancaeus,  who  had  birth 
In  woody  Samos,  of  the  self-same  sire 
Whose  heart  white-footed  Alta  set  on  fire, 
As  on  the  yellow  sands  at  dawn  she  went. 

Then  Calydon  the  great  a  hero  sent, 
The  fair-haired  Meleager,  who  became, 
In  after-days,  the  glory  of  his  name, 
The  greatest  name  of  the  J^tolian  land  ; 
While  yet  on  him  Fate  laid  her  heavy  hand, 
In  midst  of  all  his  glory  so  raised  up, 
Who  nowise  now  dreaded  the  proffered  cup 


54  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Of  life  and  death  she  held  for  him  to  drain, 
Nor  thought  of  death  and  wishes  wished  in  vain. 
With  him  his  uncle  rode,  Laoeoon, 
No  longer  young,  teaching  his  brother's  son 
What  'longed  <to  ruling  men  and  unto  war. 

From  Lacedrcmon,  Ipbiclus  afar 
Had  travelled  till  the  rich  embroidered  weed, 
His  father  Thestius  gave  him  at  his  need, 
Was  stained  with  sun  and  dust,  but  still  he  came 
To  try  the  sea  and  win  undying  fame. 

Then  came  a  man  long-limbed,  in  savage  weed, 
Areas  the  hunter,  to  whose  unmatched  speed 
All  beasts  that  wander  through  the  woods  are  slow. 
In  his  right  hand  he  bare  the  fatal  bow 
Of  horn,  and  wood,  and  brass,  but  now  unstrung. 
And  at  his  back  a  well-closed  quiver  hung, 
Done  round  with  silver  bands  and  leopard's  skin, 
And  fifty  deaths  were  bidden  well  therein 
Of  men  or  beasts ;  for  whoso  stood  before 
His  bended  bow  and  angry  eyes,  no  more 
Should  see  the  green  trees  and  the  fertile  earth. 

Then  came  two  brothers  of  a  wondrous  birth, 
Zetes  and  Calais,  sons  of  Boreas ; 
For  he  beheld  Erechtheus'  daughter  pass 
Along  Ilissus,  one  bright  windy  day, 
Whom  from  amidst  her  maids  he  bore  away 
Unto  the  hills  of  Thrace  to  be  his  bride. 
Now  unto  them  this  marvel  did  betide, 
That  like  fair  men  in  all  else,  from  the  head 
Of  each  sprung  wings,  wherewith  at  will  they  sped 
From  land  to  land,  'midst  of  the  pathless  air. 

Next  from  Magnesia  did  roan  horses  boar 
Phocus  and  Priasus,  well  skilled  to  cast 
The  whistling  dart;  then  o'er  the  drawbridge  passed 
.Ktolian  PalaMiionitis,  who  not  yet 
Had  seen  men  armed  in  anger,  or  steel  wet 


OF  JASON.  55 

With  blood  of  aught  but  beasts,  but  none  the  less 
Was  willing  now  to  stand  among  the  press 
Of  god-like  men,  who,  with  the  Minyae, 
Were  armed  to  bring  the  fleece  across  the  sea. 

Then  came  Asclepius,  whom  the  far-darter 
Saved  living  from  the  lifeless  corpse  of  her 
He  once  loved  well,  but  slew,  for  treason  done, 
Fair-haired  Coronis,  whose  far-seeing  son 
He  honoured  much,  and  taught  so  many  a  thing, 
That  first  he  knew  how  man  may  ease  the  sting 
Of  sickening  pain,  because  all  herbs  he  knew, 
And  what  the  best  and  worst  of  them  could  do. 
So  many  a  bitter  fight  with  death  he  had, 
And  made  the  heart  of  many  a  sick  man  glad, 
And  gave  new  life  to  many  a  man  who  seemed 
But  dead  already,  wherefore  people  deemed 
When  he  was  dead  that  he  was  God  indeed, 
And  on  his  altars  many  a  beast  did  bleed. 

Acastus,  Pelias'  son,  from  wandering 
Was  come  that  self-same  day  unto  the  king, 
And  needs  must  go  with  Jason  on  this  quest, 
Careless  of  princely  ease  and  golden  rest. 

Next  Neleus,  growing  grey,  forgetting  not 
The  double  crime,  had  left  the  pleasant  spot 
Where  the  wan  Alpheus  meets  the  green  sea  waves, 
And  twice  a-day  the  walls  of  Pylos  laves  ; 
For  he  was  fain  to  expiate  the  sin 
Pelias  shared  with  him,  long  years  past  within 
Queen  Juno's  temple,  where  the  brothers  slew 
The  old  Sidero,  crying  out,  who  knew 
Then  first  the  bitterness  of  such  a  cry 
As  broke  from  Tyro  in  her  agony 
When  helpless,  bound,  within  the  brazen  hall, 
She  felt  unthought-of  torment  on  her  fall, 
With  none  to  pity  her,  nor  knew  what  end 
The  Gods  unto  such  misery  would  send. 


56  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

So  might  Sidero  feel,  when  fell  on  her 
Unlooked-for  death  and  deadly,  hopeless  fear ; 
And  in  their  turn  must  Neleus  o'er  the  sea 
Go  wandering  now,  and  Pelias  must  be 
A  trembling  liar  till  death  seizes  him. 

But  now  with  Neleus,  young  but  strong  of  limb, 
His  wise,  far-seeing  offspring,  Nestor,  went, 
With  eyes  a  little  downward  ever  bent, 
Thinking  of  this  and  that  which  he  had  seen  ; 
Who,  when  his  youth  was  flourishing  and  green, 
Saw  many  feats  of  arms  and  ways  of  men, 
Yet  lived  so  long  to  be  well  honoured,  when 
In  Troy  the  old  the  princes  shared  the  spoil. 

Next  came  Laertes  to  share  grief  and  toil 
With  these  upon  the  sea ;  yet  had  he  not 
An  easy  land  in  Ithaca  the  hot, 
Though  Bacchus  loves  the  ledges  of  the  land, 
And  weighs  the  peasant  in  his  sunburnt  hand 
The  heavy  oozing  bunches,  in  the  time 
When  frosts  draw  nigh  in  the  rough  northern  clime. 

Next  whom  came  Almenus,  of  nought  afraid, 
Well  armed  and  hardy,  whom  a  mortal  maid 
Bore  unto  Mars,  for  he,  new-come  from  Thrace, 
Beside  Enipeus  met  her,  and  in  chase 
He  held  her  long,  who  vainly  fled  from  him, 
Though  light  of  foot  she  was,  and  strong  of  limb. 

And  last  of  all,  Orpheus  the  singer  came,  • 
The  son  of  King  (Eager,  great  of  fame, 
Yet  happier  by  much  in  this,  that  he 
Was  loved  by  heavenly  Calliope, 
Who  bore  him  Orpheus  on  a  happy  day. 
And  now,  through  many  a  rough  and  toilsome  wny, 
Hither  he  came  the  Minyae  to  please, 
And  make  them  masters  of  the  threatening  seas, 
Cheering  their  hearts,  and  making  their  hands  strong 
^Yith  the  unlooked-for  sweetness  of  his  song. 


OF  JASON.  57 

Nor  was  it  eve  by  then  that  Orpheus  came 
Into  the  hall,  and  when  they  heard  his  name, 
And  toward  the  high-seat  of  the  prince  he  drew, 
All  men  beholding  him  the  singer  knew, 
And  glad  they  were,  indeed,  that  he  should  be 
Their  mate  upon  the  bitter,  tuneless  sea. 
And  loud  they  shouted,  but  Prince  Jason  said :  — 
"  Now,  may  the  Gods  bring  good  things  on  thy  head, 
Son  of  (Eager,  but  from  me,  indeed, 
This  gold  Daedalian  bowl  shall  be  thy  meed, 
If  thou  wilt  let  us  hear  thy  voice  take  wing 
From  out  thy  heart,  and  see  the  golden  string 
Quiver  beneath  thy  fingers.     But  by  me 
First  sit  and  feast,  and  happy  mayst  thou  be." 
,    Then,  glad  at  heart,  the  hero  took  his  place, 
And  ate  and  drank  his  fill,  but  when  the  space 
Was  cleared  of  flesh  and  bread,  he  took  his  lyre 
And  sung  them  of  the  building  up  of  Tyre, 
And  of  the  fair  things  stored  up  over  sea, 
Till  there  was  none  of  them  but  fain  would  be 
Set  in  the  ship,  nor  cared  one  man  to  stay 
On  the  green  earth  for  one  more  idle  day. 

But  Jason,  looking  right  and  left  on  them, 
Took  his  fair  cloak,  wrought  with  a  golden  hem, 
And  laid  it  upon  Orpheus,  and  thereto 
Added  the  promised  bowl,  that  all  men  knew 
No  hand  but  that  of  Daedalus  had  wrought, 
So  rich  it  was,  and  fair  beyond  all  thought. 
Then  did  he  say  unto  the  Minyae  :  — 
"  Fair  friends  and  well-loved  guests,  no  more  shall  ye 
Feast  in  this  hall  until  we  come  again 
Back  to  this  land,  well-guerdoned  for  our  pain, 
Bearing  the  fleece,  and  mayhap  many  a  tiling 
Such  as  this  god-like  guest  erewhile  did  sing, 


58  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Scarlet,  and  gold,  and  brass;  but  without  fail 
Bearing  great  fame,  if  aught  that  may  avail 
To  men  who  die  ;  and  our  names  certainly 
Shall  never  perish,  wheresoe'er  we  lie. 

"  And  now  behold  within  the  haven  rides 
Our  good  ship,  swinging  in  the  changing  tides, 
Gleaming  with  gold,  and  blue,  and  cinnabar, 
The  long  new  oars  beside  the  rowlocks  are, 
The  sail  hangs  flapping  in  the  light  west  wind, 
Nor  aught  undone  can  any  craftsman  find 
From  stem  to  stern  ;  so  is  our  quest  begun 
To-morrow  at  the  rising  of  the  sun. 
And  may  Jove  bring  us  all  safe  back  to  see 
Another  sun  shine  on  this  fair  city, 
When  elders  and  the  flower-crowned  maidens  meet 
With  tears  and  singing  our  returning  feet." 

So  spake  he,  and  so  mighty  was  the  shout, 
That  the  hall  shook,  and  shepherd-folk  without 
The  well-walled  city  heard  it  as  they  went 
Unto  the  fold  across  the  thyrny  bent. 


BOOK    IV. 

BUT  through  the  town  few  eyes  were  sealed  by  sleep 
When  the  sun  rose ;  yea,  and  the  upland  sheep 
Must  guard  themselves  for  that  one  morn  at  least 
Against  the  wolf;  and  wary  doves  may  feast 
Unscared  that  morning  on  the  ripening  corn. 
Nor  did  the  whetstone  touch  the  scythe  that  morn  ; 
And  all  unheeded  did  the  mackerel  shoal 
Make  green  the  blue  waves,  or  the  porpoise  roll 
Through  changing  hills  and  valleys  of  the  sea. 


OF  JASON.  59 

For  'twixt  the  thronging  people  solemnly 
The  heroes  went  afoot  along  the  way 
That  led  unto  the  haven  of  the  bay, 
And  as  they  went  the  roses  rained  on  them 
From  windows  glorious  with  the  well-wrought  hem 
Of  many  a  purple  cloth  ;  and  all  their  spears 
Were  twined  with  flowers  that  the  fair  earth  bears ; 
And  round  their  ladies'  tokens  were  there  set 
About  their  helmets,  flowery  wreaths,  still  wet 
With  beaded  dew  of  the  scarce  vanished  night. 

So  as  they  passed,  the  young  men  at  the  sight 
Shouted  for  joy,  and  their  hearts  swelled  with  pride  ; 
But  scarce  the  elders  could  behold  dry-eyed 
The  glorious  show,  remembering  well  the  days 
When  they  were  able  too  to  win  them  praise, 
And  in  their  hearts  was  hope  of  days  to  come. 

Nor  could  the  heroes  leave  their  fathers'  home 
Unwept  of  damsels,  who  henceforth  must  hold 
The  empty  air  unto  their  bosoms  cold, 
And  make  their  sweet  complainings  to  the  night 
That  heedeth  not  soft  eyes  and  bosoms  white. 
And  many  such  an  one  was  there  that  morn, 
Who,  with  lips  parted  and  grey  eyes  forlorn, 
Stood  by  the  window  and  forgot  to  cast 
Her  gathered  flowers  as  the  heroes  passed, 
But  held  them  still  within  her  garment's  hem, 
Though  many  a  winged  wish  she  sent  to  them. 

But  on  they  went,  and  as  the  way  they  trod, 
His  swelling  heart  nigh  made  each  man  a  god  ; 
While  clashed  their  armour  to  the  minstrelsy 
That  went  before  them  to  the  doubtful  sea. 

And  now,  the  streets  being  passed,  they  reached  the  bay, 
Where  by  the  well-built  quay  long  Argo  lay, 
Glorious  with  gold,  and  shining  in  the  sun. 
Then  first  they  shouted,  and  each  man  begun 
Against  his  shield  to  strike  his  brazen  spear ; 


60  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  as  along  the  quays  they  drew  a-near, 
Faster  they  strode  and  faster,  till  a  cry 
Again  burst  from  them,  and  right  eagerly 
Into  swift  running  did  they  break  at  last, 
Till  all  the  wind-swept  quay  being  overpast, 
They  pressed  across  the  gangway,  and  tilled  up 
The  hollow  ship  as  wine  a  golden  cup. 

But  Jason,  standing  by  the  helmsman's  side 
High  on  the  poop,  lift  up  his  voice  and  cried  :  — 

"  Look  landward,  heroes,  once,  before  ye  slip 
The  tough  well-twisted  hawser  from  the  ship, 
And  set  your  eager  hands  to  rope  or  oar  ; 
For  now,  behold,  the  king  stands  on  the  shore 
Beside  a  new-built  altar,  while  the  priests 
Lead  up  a  hecatomb  of  spotless  beasts, 
White  bulls  and  coal-black  horses,  and  my  sire 
Lifts  up  the  barley-cake  above  the  fire ; 
And  in  his  hand  a  cup  of  ruddy  gold 
King  Pelias  takes ;  and  now  may  ye  behold 
The  broad  new-risen  sun  light  up  the  God, 
Who,  holding  in  his  hand  the  crystal  rod 
That  rules  the  sea,  stands  by  Daedalian  art 
Above  his  temple,  set  right  far  apart 
From  other  houses,  nigh  the  deep  green  sea. 

"And  now,  0  fellows,  from  no  man  but  me 
These  gifts  come  to  the  God,  that,  ere  long  years 
Have  drowned  our  laughter  and  dried  up  our  tears, 
We  may  behold  that  glimmering  brazen  God 
Against  the  sun  bear  up  his  crystal  rod 
Once  more,  and  once  more  cast  upon  this  land 
This  cable,  severed  by  my  bloodless  brand." 

So  spake  he,  and  raised  up  the  glittering  steel, 
That  fell,  and  seaward  straight  did  Argo  reel, 
Set  free,  and  smitten  by  the  western  breeze, 


OF   JASON.  6 1 

And  raised  herself  against  the  ridgy  seas, 

With  golden  eyes  turned  toward  the  Colchian  land, 

Still  heedful  of  wise  Tiphys'  skilful  hand. 

But  silent  sat  the  heroes  by  the  oar, 
Hearkening  the  sounds  borne  from  the  lessening  shore ; 
The  lowing  of  the  doomed  and  flower-crowned  beasts, 
The  plaintive  singing  of  the  ancient  priests, 
Mingled  with  blare  of  trumpets,  and  the  sound 
Of  all  the  many  folk  that  stood  around 
The  altar  and  the  temple  by  the  sea. 
So  sat  they  pondering  much  and  silently, 
Till  all  the  landward  noises  died  away, 
And,  midmost  now  of  the  green  sunny  bay, 
They  heard  no  sound  but  washing  of  the  seas 
And  piping  of  the  following  western  breeze, 
And  heavy  measured  beating  of  the  oars  : 
So  left  the  Argo  the  Thessalian  shores. 

Now  Neptune,  joyful  of  the  sacrifice 
Beside  the  sea,  and  all  the  gifts  of  price 
That  Jason  gave  him,  sent  them  wind  at  will, 
And  swiftly  Argo  climbed  each  changing  hill, 
And  ran  through  rippling  valleys  of  the  sea ; 
Nor  toiled  the  heroes  unmelodiously, 
For  by  the  mast  sat  great  (Eager 's  son, 
And  through  the  harp-strings  let  his  fingers  run 
Nigh  soundless,  and  with  closed  lips  for  a  while ; 
But  soon  across  his  face  there  came  a  smile, 
And  his  glad  voice  brake  into  such  a  song 
That  swiftlier  sped  the  eager  ship  along. 

"  0  bitter  sea,  tumultuous  sea, 
Full  many  an  ill  is  wrought  by  thee  !  — 
Unto  the  wasters  of  the  land 
Thou  boldest  out  thy  wrinkled  hand  ; 
And  when  they  leave  the  conquered  town, 


62  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Whose  black  smoke  makes  thy  surges  brown, 
Driven  betwixt  thee  and  the  sun, 
As  the  long  day  of  blood  is  done, 
From  many  a  league  of  glittering  waves 
Thou  smilest  on  them  and  their  slaves. 

"  The  thin  bright-eyed  Phoenician 
Thou  drawest  to  thy  waters  wan, 
With  ruddy  eve  and  golden  morn 
Thou  temptest  him,  until,  forlorn, 
Unburied,  under  alien  skies 
Cast  up  ashore  his  body  lies. 

"  Yea,  whoso  sees  thee  from  his  door, 
Must  ever  long  for  more  and  more ; 
Nor  will  the  beechen  bowl  suffice, 
Or  homespun  robe  of  little  price, 
Or  hood  well-woven  of  the  fleece 
Undyed,  or  unspiced  wine  of  Greece  ; 
So  sore  his  heart  is  set  upon 
Purple,  and  gold,  and  cinnamon  ; 
For  as  thou  cravest,  so  he  craves, 
Until  he  rolls  beneath  thy  waves. 
Nor  in  some  landlocked,  unknown  bay, 
Can  satiate  thee  for  one  day. 

"  Now,  therefore,  0  thou  bitter  sea, 
With  no  long  words  we  pray  to  thee, 
But  ask  thee,  hast  thou  felt  before 
Such  strokes  of  the  long  ashen  oar  "I 
And  hast  thou  yet  seen  such  a  prow 
Thy  rich  and  niggard  waters  plough  ? 

"  Nor  yet,  0  sea,  shalt  thou  be  cursed, 
If  at  thy  hands  we  gain  the  worst, 
And,  wrapt  in  water,  roll  about 
Blind-eyed,  unheeding  song  or  shout, 
Within  thine  eddies  far  from  shore, 
Wanned  by  no  sunlight  any  more. 


OF  JASON.  63 

"  Therefore,  indeed,  we  joy  in  tlioc, 
And  praise  thy  greatness,  and  will  we 
Take  at  thy  hands  both  good  and  ill, 
Yea,  what  thou  wilt,  and  praise  thee  still, 
Enduring  not  to  sit  at  home, 
And  wait  until  the  last  days  come, 
When  we  no  more  may  care  to  hold 
White  bosoms  under  crowns  of  gold, 
And  our  dulled  hearts  no  longer  are 
Stirred  by  the  clangorous  noise  of  war, 
And  hope  within  our  souls  is  dead, 
And  no  joy  is  remembered. 

"  So,  if  thou  hast  a  mind  to  slay, 
Fair  prize  thou  hast  of  us  to-day  ; 
And  if  thou  hast  a  mind  to  save, 
Great  praise  and  honour  shalt  thou  have  ; 
But  whatso  thou  wilt  do  with  us, 
Our  end  shall  not  be  piteous, 
Because  our  memories  shall  live 
When  folk  forget  the  way  to  drive 
The  black  keel  through  the  heaped-up  sea, 
And  half  dried  up  thy  waters  be." 

Then  shouted  all  the  heroes,  and  they  drove 
The  good  ship  forth,  so  that  the  birds  above, 
With  long  white  wings,  scarce  flew  so  fast  as  they. 
And  so  they  laboured  well-nigh  all  the  day, 
And  ever  in  their  ears  divine  words  rung, 
For  'midmost  of  them  still  the  Thracian  sung 
Stories  of  Gods  and  men  ;  the  bitter  life 
Pandora  brought  to  luckless  men  ;  the  strife 
'Twixt  Pallas  and  the  Shaker  of  the  Earth, 
The  theft  of  Bacchus,  and  the  wondrous  birth 
Of  golden  Venus.     Natheless,  when  the  sun 
To  fall  adown  the  heavens  had  begun, 
They  trimmed  the  sails,  and  drew  the  long  oars  up, 


64  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And,  having  poured  wine  from  a  golden  cup 
Unto  the  Gods,  gladdened  their  hearts  with  food  ; 
Then,  having  feasted  as  they  thought  it  good, 
Set  hands  upon  the  oars  again,  and  so 
Toiled  on,  until  the  broad  sun,  growing  low, 
Reddened  the  green  sea  ;  then  they  held  their  hands 
Till  he  should  come  again  from  unknown  lands, 
And  fell  to  meat  again,  and  sat  so  long 
Over  the  wine-cups,  cheered  with  tale  and  song, 
That  night  fell  on  them,  and  the  moon  rose  high, 
And  the  fair  western  wind  began  to  die, 
Though  still  they  drifted  slowly  towards  the  east ; 
Then  with  sweet  sleep  the  others  crowned  their  feast, 
But  Tiphys  and  the  leader  of  the  rest, 
Who  watched  till  drew  the  round  moon  to  the  west, 
And  Jason  could  behold  beneath  her  light, 
Far  off  at  first,  a  little  speck  of  white, 
Which,  as  the  grey  dawn  stole  across  the  sea, 
And  the  wind  freshened,  grew  at  last  to  be 
Grey  rocks  and  great,  and  when  they  nigher  drew, 
The  skilful  helmsman  past  all  doubting  knew 
The  land  of  Lemnos  ;  therefore  from  their  sleep 
They  roused  their  fellows,  bidding  them  to  keep 
The  good  ship  from  that  evil  rocky  shore. 
So  each  man  set  his  hand  unto  the  oar, 
And,  striking  sail,  along  the  coast  they  crept, 
Till  the  sun  rose,  and  birds  no  longer  slept ; 
Then  as  they  went  they  saw  a  sandy  beach 
Under  the  cliff,  that  no  high  wave  could  reach, 
And  in  the  rock  a  deep  cave  cut,  whereby 
A  man  was  standing,  gazing  earnestly 
Upon  their  ship,  and  shouting  words  that,  tost 
Hither  and  thither  by  the  wind,  were  lost 
Amid  the  tumbling  of  the  ridgy  sea ; 
Nathcless,  they  deemed  that  he  still  prayed  to  be 
Their  fellow,  and  to  leave  those  rocky  shores ; 


OF  JASON.  65 

Therefore,  with  backing  of  the  ashen  oars, 
They  stayed  the  ship,  and  beckoned  unto  him 
To  try  the  sea,  if  so  be  he  could  swim  ; 
Because,  indeed,  they  doubted  there  might  be 
A-nigh  the  place  some  hidden  enemy  ; 
Nor  cared  they  much  to  trust  their  oaken  keel 
Too  near  those  rocks,  as  deadly  as  sharp  steel, 
That  lay  upon  their  lee  :  but  with  a  shout 
He  sprang  into  the  sea,  and  beat  about 
The  waters  bravely,  till  he  reached  the  ship  • 
And  clambering  up,  let  the  salt  water  drip 
From  off  his  naked  limbs,  nor  spoke  he  aught 
Until  before  the  fair  prince  he  was  brought ; 
But  Jason,  when  he  set  his  eyes  on  him, 
And  saw  him  famished  and  so  gaunt  of  limb, 
Bade  them  to  give  him  food  and  wine  enow 
Before  he  told  his  tale ;  and  still  to  row 
Along  the  high  cliffs  eastward,  nor  to  stay 
For  town  or  tower,  haven  or  deep  bay. 

Then  being  clothed  and  fed,  the  island  man 
Came  back  to  Jason,  and  his  tale  began  :  — 

"  0  Lord,  or  Prince,  or  whoso  thou  mayst  be, 
Great  thanks  I  give  thee  ;  yet,  I  pray,  of  me 
Ask  not  my  name,  for  surely  ere  this  day 
Both  name,  and  house,  and  friends,  have  past  away. 
A  Lemnian  am  I,  who  within  the  town 
Had  a  fair  house,  and  on  the  thy  my  down 
Full  many  a  head  of  sheep  :  and  I  had  too 
A  daughter,  old  enough  for  men  to  woo, 
A  wife  and  three  fair  sons ;  of  whom  the  first 
For  love  and  gold  had  now  begun  to  thirst ; 
Full  rich  I  was,  and  led  a  pleasant  life, 
Nor  did  I  long  for  more,  or  doubt  for  strife. 

"  Know  that  in  Lemnos  were  the  Gods  well  served, 
And  duly  all  their  awful  rites  observed, 


66  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Save  only  that  no  temple  Venus  had, 

And  from  no  altars  was  her  heart  made  glad  ; 

Wherefore  for  us  she  wove  a  bitter  fate, 

For  by  her  power  she  set  an  evil  hate 

Of  man,  like  madness  in  each  woman's  heart, 

And  heavy  sleep  on  us  men,  for  our  part, 

From  which  few  woke,  or  woke  in  time  to  feel 

Against  their  throats  the  pitiless  sharp  steel. 

"  But  that  there  might  be  one  to  tell  the  thing, 
Nigh  dawn  I  woke,  and,  turning,  thought  to  cling 
Unto  the  warm  side  of  my  well-loved  wife, 
But  found  nought  there  but  a  keen  two-edged  knife  ; 
So,  wondering  much,  I  gat  me  from  the  bed, 
And  going  thence,  found  all  the  floor  be-bled 
In  my  son's  sleeping  place,  and  nigh  the  door 
His  body,  hacked  and  hewn,  upon  the  floor  : 
Naked  he  was,  but  in  his  clenched  right  hand 
Held  tufts  of  woman's  hair.     Then  did  I  stand 
As  in  a  dream  a  man  stands,  when  draws  nigh 
The  thing  he  fears  with  such  wild  agony, 
Yet  dares  not  flee  from  ;  but  the  golden  sun 
Came  forth  at  last,  and  daylight  was  begun ; 
Then  trembling  I  took  heart  to  leave  at  last 
The  lonely  house,  but,  as  I  slowly  passed 
Into  the  porch,  a  dreadful  noise  I  heard, 
Nor  shall  I  be  again  by  aught  so  feared, 
How  long  soe'er  I  live,  as  I  was  then. 
Because  that  shout  was  worse  than  cries  of  men 
Drunken  with  blood ;  but  yet  as  in  a  dream 
I  went  to  meet  it,  and  heard  many  a  scream 
From  dying  men  ;  but,  as  I  gained  the  street, 
Men  flying  for  their  dear  lives  did  I  meet, 
And  turned  and  fled  with  them,  I  knew  not  why, 
But  looking  back  in  running,  could  espy, 
With  shrinking  horror,  what  kept  up  the  chase. 

"  Because,  indeed,  the  old  familar  place, 


OF  JASON.  67 

From  house-wall  unto  house-wall,  was  now  filled 
With  frantic  women,  whose  thin  voices  shrilled 
With  unknown  war-cries ;  little  did  they  heed 
If,  as  they  tore  along,  their  flesh  did  bleed 
So  that  some  man  was  slain,  nor  feared  they  now 
If  they  each  other  smote  with  spear  or  bow, 
For  all  were  armed  in  some  sort,  and  had  set 
On  head  or  breast  what  armour  they  might  get ; 
And  some  were  naked  else,  and  some  were  clad 
In  such-like  raiment  as  the  slain  men  had, 
And  some  their  kirtles  wore  looped  up  or  rent. 

"  So  ever  at  us  shafts  and  spears  they  sent, 
And  through  the  street  came  on  like  a  huge  wave, 
Until  at  last  against  the  gates  they  drave, 
And  we  gained  on  them,  till  some  two  or  three, 
As  still  the  others  strove  confusedly, 
Burst  from  the  press,  and,  heading  all  the  rest, 
Kan  mightily,  and  the  last  men,  hard  pressed, 
Turned  round  upon  them,  and  straightway  were  slain, 
Unarmed  and  faint,  and  'gan  the  growd  to  gain 
Upon  the  fleeing  men,  till  one  by  one 
They  fell,  and  looked  their  last  upon  the  sun, 
And  I  alone  was  held  in  chase,  until 
I  reached  the  top  of  a  high  thymy  hill 
Above  the  sea,  bleeding  from  arm  and  back, 
Wherein  two  huntsmen's  arrows  lightly  stack, 
Shot  by  no  practised  hands  ;  but  nigh  my  death 
I  was  indeed,  empty  of  hope  and  breath. 

"  Yet,  ere  their  changed  hands  could  be  laid  on  me, 
I  threw  myself  into  the  boiling  sea, 
And  they  turned  back,  nor  doubted  I  was  dead ; 
But  I,  though  fearing  much  to  show  my  head, 
Grot  me,  by  swimming,  to  yon  little  beach, 
And  there  the  mouth  of  yon  cave  scarce  could  reach, 
And  lay  there  fainting  till  the  sun  was  high. 
Then  I  awoke,  and,  rising  fearfully, 


68  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Gat  into  the  dark  cave,  and  there  have  been, 
How  long  I  know  not,  and  no  man  have  seen  ; 
And  as  for  food  and  drink,  within  the  cave 
Good  store  of  sweet  clear  water  did  I  have, 
And  in  the  nights  I  went  along  the  beach 
And  got  me  shell-fish,  and  made  shift  to  reach 
Some  few  birds'  eggs  ;  but  natheless  misery 
Must  soon  have  slain  me,  had  not  the  kind  sea 
Sent  you,  0  lords,  to  give  me  life  again  ; 
Therefore,  I  pray,  ye  may  not  wish  in  vain 
For  aught,  and  that  with  goods  and  happiness 
The  father  of  all  folk  your  lives  may  bless." 

Then  said  the  prince  :   ' '  And  be  thou  strong  of  heart, 
For,  after  all  thy  woes,  shalt  thou  have  part 
In  this  our  quest,  if  so  thou  wiliest  it, 
But  if  so  be  that  thou  wouldst  rather  sit 
In  rest  and  peace  within  a  fair  homestead, 
That  shall  some  king  give  to  thee  by  my  head, 
For  love  of  me  ;  or  else  for  very  fear 
Shall  some  man  give  thee  what  thou  countest  dear. 

"  And  if  thou  askest  of  us,  know  that  we 
Are  children  of  the  conquering  Minyae, 
And  make  for  Colchis  o'er  the  watery  plain, 
And  think  we  shall  not  fail  to  bring  again 
The  fleece  of  Neptune's  ram  to  Thessaly." 

"  Prince,"  said  the  Lemnian,  "  I  will  go  with  thee 
Whereso  thou  wiliest,  neither  have  I  will 
To  wait  again  for  ruin,  sitting  still 
Among  such  goods  as  grudging  fate  will  give, 
Even  at  the  longest,  only  while  I  live." 

Then  Jason  bade  them  bring  him  arms  well  wrought 
And  robes  of  price ;  and  when  all  these  were  brought, 
And  he  was  armed,  he  seemed  a  goodly  man. 

Meanwhile,  along  the  high  cliffs  Argo  ran 
Until  a  fresh  land-wind  began  to  rise, 


OF  JASON.  69 

Then  did  they  set  sail,  and  in  goodly  wise 

Draw  off  from  Lemnos,  and  at  close  of  day 

Again  before  them  a  new  country  lay, 

Which  when  they  neared,  the  helmsman  Tiphys  knew 

To  be  the  Mysian  land  ;  being  come  thereto, 

They  saw  a  grassy  shore  and  trees  enow, 

And  a  sweet  stream  that  from  the  land  did  flow ; 

Therefore  they  thought  it  good  to  land  thereon 

And  get  them  water ;  but,  the  day  being  gone, 

They  anchored  till  the  dawn,  anigh  the  beach 

Till  the  sea's  rim  the  golden  sun  did  reach. 

But  when  the  day  dawned,  most  men  left  the  ship, 

Some  hasting  the  glazed  water-jars  to  dip 

In  the  fresh  water ;  others  among  these 

Who  had  good  will  beneath  the  murmuring  trees 

To  sit  awhile,  forgetful  of  the  sea. 

And  with  the  sea-farers  there  landed  three 

Amongst  the  best,  Alcmena's  godlike  son, 

Hylas  the  fair,  and  that  half-halting  one, 

Great  Polyphemus.     Now  both  Hercules 

And  all  the  others  lay  beneath  the  trees, 

When  all  the  jars  were  filled,  nor  wandered  far ; 

But  Hylas,  governed  by  some  wayward  star, 

Strayed  from  them,  and  up  stream  he  set  his  face, 

And  came  unto  a  tangled  woody  place, 

From  whence  the  stream  came,  and  within  that  wood 

Along  its  bank  wandered  in  heedless  mood, 

Nor  knew  it  haunted  of  the  sea-nymphs  fair, 

Whom  on  that  morn  the  heroes'  noise  did  scare 

From  their  abiding-place  anigh  the  bay ; 

But  these  now  hidden  in  the  water  lay 

Within  the  wood,  and  thence  could  they  behold 

The  fair-limbed  Hylas,  with  his  hair  of  gold, 

And  mighty  arms  down-swinging  carelessly, 

And  fresh  face,  ruddy  from  the  wind-swept  sea. 


70  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  straight  they  loved  him,  and,  being  fain  to  have 
His  shapely  body  in  the  glassy  wave, 
And  taking  counsel  there,  they  thought  it  good 
That  one  should  meet  him  in  the  darksome  wood, 
And  by  her  wiles  should  draw  him  to  some  place 
Where  they  his  helpless  body  might  embrace. 

So  from  the  water  stole  a  fair  nymph  forth, 
And  by  her  art  so  wrought,  that  from  the  north 
You  would  have  thought  her  come  from  where  a  queen 
Rules  over  lands  summer  alone  sees  green  ; 
For  she  in  goodly  raiment,  furred,  was  clad, 
And  on  her  head  a  golden  fillet  had, 
Strange  of  its  fashion,  and  about  her  shone 
Many  a  fair  jewel  and  outlandish  stone. 

So  in  the  wood,  anigh  the  river  side, 
The  coming  of  the  Theban  did  she  bide, 
Nor  waited  long,  for  slowly  pushing  through 
The  close-set  saplings,  o'er  the  flowers  blue 
He  drew  nigh,  singing,  free  from  any  care  ; 
But  when  he  saw  her  glittering  raiment  fair 
Betwixt  the  green  tree-trunks,  he  stayed  a  space, 
For  she,  with  fair  hands  covering  up  her  face, 
Was  wailing  loud,  as  though  she  saw  him  not, 
And  to  his  mind  came  old  tales  half  forgot, 
Of  women  of  the  woods,  the  huntsman's  bane. 

Yet  with  his  fate  indeed  he  strove  in  vain ; 
For,  going  farther  forward  warily, 
From  tree-trunk  unto  tree-trunk,  he  could  see 
Her  lovely  hands,  with  wrist  set  close  to  wrist, 
Her  cheek  as  fair  as  any  God  has  kissed, 
Her  lovely  neck  and  wealth  of  golden  hair, 
That  from  its  fillet  straggled  here  and  there, 
And  all  her  body  writhing  in  distress, 
Wrapped  in  the  bright  folds  of  her  golden  dress. 

Then  forthwith  he  drew  near  her  eagerly, 
Nor  did  she  seem  to  know  that  he  was  high, 


OF  JASON.  71 

Until  almost  his  band  on  her  was  laid  ; 

Then,  lifting  up  a  pale  wild  face,  she  said, 

Struggling  with  sobs  and  shrinking  from  his  hand  :  — 

"  0  fair  young  warrior  of  a  happy  land, 

Harm  not  a  queen,  I  pray  thee,  for  I  come 

From  the  far  northland,  where  yet  sits  at  home 

The  king,  my  father,  who,  since  I  was  wooed 

By  a  rich  lord  of  Greece,  had  thought  it  good 

To  send  me  to  him  with  a  royal  train, 

But  they,  their  hearts  being  changed  by  hope  of  gain, 

Seized  on  my  goods,  and  left  me  while  I  slept ; 

Nor  do  I  know,  indeed,  what  kind  God  kept 

Their  traitorous  hands  from  slaying  me  outright ; 

And  surely  yet,  the  lion-haunted  night 

Shall  make  an  end  of  me,  who  erewhile  thought 

That  unto  lovelier  lands  I  was  being  brought, 

To  live  a  happier  life  than  heretofore. 

"  But  why  think  I  of  past  times  any  more, 

Who,  a  king's  daughter  once,  am  now  grown  fain 

Of  poorest  living,  through  all  toil  and  pain, 

If  so  I  may  but  live :  and  thou,  indeed, 

Perchance  art  come,  some  God,  unto  my  need  ; 

For  nothing  less  thou  seemest,  verily. 

But  if  thou  art  a  man,  let  me  not  die, 

But  take  me  as  thy  slave,  that  I  may  live. 

For  many  a  gem  my  raiment  has  to  give, 

And  these  weak  fingers  surely  yet  may  learn 

To  turn  the  mill,  and  carry  forth  the  urn 

Unto  the  stream,  nor  shall  my  feet  unshod 

Shrink  from  the  flinty  road  and  thistly  sod." 

She  ceased ;  but  he  stooped  down,  and  stammering  said  : 
"  Mayst  thou  be  happy,  0  most  lovely  maid, 
And  thy  sweet  life  yet  know  a  better  day : 
And  I  will  strive  to  bring  thee  on  thy  way, 
Who  am  the  well-loved  son  of  a  rich  man 
Who  dwells  in  Thebes,  beside  Ismenus  wan." 


72  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Therewith  he  reached  his  hand  to  her,  and  she 
Let  her  slim  palm  fall  in  it  daintily ; 
But  with  that  touch  he  felt  as  through  his  blood 
Strange  fire  ran,  and  saw  not  the  close  wood, 
Nor  tangled  path,  nor  stream,  nor  aught  but  her 
Crouching  before  him  in  her  gold  and  fur, 
With  kind  appealing  eyes  raised  up  to  his, 
And  red  lips  trembling  for  the  coming  kiss. 

But  ere  his  lips  met  hers  did  she  arise, 
Reddening  with  shame,  and  from  before  his  eyes 
Drew  her  white  hand,  wherewith  the  robe  of  gold 
She  gathered  up,  and  from  her  feet  did  hold, 
Then  through  the  tangled  wood  began  to  go, 
Not  looking  round ;  but  he  cared  not  to  know 
Whither  they  went,  so  only  she  was  nigh. 
So  to  her  side  he  hurried  fearfully, 
She  nought  gainsaying,  but  with  eyes  downcast 
Still  by  his  side  betwixt  the  low  boughs  past, 
Following  the  stream,  until  a  space  of  green 
All  bare  of  trees  they  reached,  and  there  between 
The  river  ran,  grown  broad  and  like  a  pool, 
Along  whose  bank  a  flickering  shade  and  cool 
Grey  willows  made,  and  all  about  they  heard 
The  warble  of  the  small  brown  river  bird. 
And  from  both  stream  and  banks  rose  up  a  haze 
Quivering  and  glassy,  for  of  summer  days 
This  was  the  chiefest  day  and  crown  of  all. 

There  did  the  damsel  let  her  long  skirts  fall 
Over  her  feet,  but  as  her  hand  dropped  clown, 
She  felt  it  stopped  by  Hylas'  fingers  brown, 
Whereat  she  trembled  and  began  to  go 
Across  the  flowery  grass  with  footsteps  slow, 
As  though  she  grew  aweary,  and  she  said, 
Turning  about  her  fair  and  glorious  head  : 
"  Soft  is  the  air  in  your  land  certainly, 
But  under  foot  the  way  is  rough  and  dry 


OF  JASON.  73 

Unto  such  feet  as  mine,  more  used  to  feel 
The  dainty  stirrup  wrought  of  gold  and  steel, 
Or  tread  upon  the  white  bear's  fell,  or  pass 
In  spring  and  summer  o'er  such  flowery  grass 
As  this,  that  soothly  mindeth  me  too  much 
Of  that  my  worshipped  feet  were  wont  to  touch, 
When  I  was  called  a  queen ;  let  us  not  haste 
To  leave  this  sweet  place  for  the  tangled  waste, 
I  pray  thee,  therefore,  prince,  but  let  us  lie 
Beneath  these  willows  while  the  wind  goes  by, 
And  set  our  hearts  to  think  of  happy  things, 
Before  the  morrow  pain  and  trouble  brings." 
She  faltered  somewhat  as  she  spoke,  but  he 
Drew  up  before  her  and  took  lovingly 
Her  other  hand,  nor  spoke  she  more  to  him, 
Nor  he  to  her  awhile,  till,  from  the  rim 
Of  his  great  shield,  broke  off  the  leather  band 
That  crossed  his  breast,  whether  some  demon's  hand 
Snapped  it  unseen,  or  some  sharp,  rugged  bough 
Within  the  wood  had  chafed  it  even  now ; 
But  clattering  fell  the  buckler  to  the  ground, 
And,  startled  at  the  noise,  he  turned  him  round, 
Then,  grown  all  bold  within  that  little  space, 
He  set  his  cheek  unto  her  blushing  face, 
And  smiling,  in  a  low  voice  said  : 

"  0  sweet, 

Call  it  an  omen  that  this,  nowise  meet 
For  deeds  of  love,  has  left  me  by  its  will, 
And  now  by  mine  these  toys  that  cumber  still 
My  arms  shall  leave  me." 

And  therewith  he  threw 

His  brass-bound  spear  upon  the  grass,  and  drew 
The  Theban  blade  from  out  its  ivory  sheath, 
And  loosed  his  broad  belt's  clasp,  that  like  a  wreath 
His  father's  Indian  serving-man  had  wrought, 
And  cast  his  steel  coat  off,  from  Persia  brought ; 


74  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  so  at  last  being  freed  of  brass  and  steel, 
Upon  bis  breast  be  laid  her  band  to  feel 
The  softness  of  the  fine  Phoenician  stuff 
That  clad  it  still,  nor  yet  could  toy  enough 
With  that  fair  hand ;  so  played  they  for  a  space, 
Till  softly  did  she  draw  him  to  a  place 
Anigh  the  stream,  and  they  being  set,  he  said : 

"  And  what  dost  thou,  O  love?  art  thou  afraid 
To  cast  thine  armour  off,  as  I  have  done, 
Within  this  covert  where  the  fiery  sun 
Scarce  strikes  upon  one  jewel  of  your  gown  ?  " 

Then  she  spake,  reddening,  with  her  eyes  cast  down 
"  0  prince,  behold  me  as  I  am  to-day, 
But  if  o'er  many  a  rough  and  weary  way 
It  hap  unto  us  both  at  last  to  come 
Unto  the  happy  place  that  is  thine  home, 
Then  let  me  be  as  women  of  thy  land 
When  they  before  the  sea-born  goddess  stand, 
And  not  one  flower  hides  them  from  her  sight." 

But  with  that  word  she  set  her  fingers  white 
Upon  her  belt,  and  he  said  amorously : 
"  Ah,  God,  whatso  thou  wilt  must  surely  be, 
But  would  that  I  might  die  or  be  asleep 
Till  we  have  gone  across  the  barren  deep, 
And  you  and  I  together,  hand  in  hand, 
Some  day,  ere  sunrise  lights  the  quiet  land, 
Behold  once  more  the  seven  gleaming  gates." 

"  0  love,"  she  said,  "  and  such  a  fair  time  waits 
Both  thee  and  me ;  but  now  to  give  thee  rest, 
Here,  in  the  noontide,  were  it  not  the  best 
To  soothe  thee  with  some  gentle  murmuring  song, 
Sung  to  such  notes  as  to  our  folk  belong ; 
Such  as  my  maids  awhile  ago  would  sing 
When  on  my  bed  a-nights  I  lav  waking  'i  " 

"  Sing  on,"  he  said,  "  but  let  me  dream  of  bliss 
If  I  should  sleep,  nor  yet  forget  thy  kiss." 


OF  JASON.  75 

She  touched  his  lips  with  hers,  and  then  began 
A  sweet  song  sung  not  yet  to  any  man. 

'  I  know  a  little  garden  close 
Set  thick  with  lily  and  red  rose, 
Where  I  would  wander  if  I  might 
From  dewy  dawn  to  dewy  night, 
And  have  one  with  me  wandering. 

"  And  though  within  it  no  birds  sing, 
And  though  no  pillared  house  is  there, 
And  though  the  apple  boughs  are  bare 
Of  fruit  and  blossom,  would  to  God 
Her  feet  upon  the  green  grass  trod, 
And  I  beheld  them  as  before. 

"  There  comes  a  murmur  from  the  shore, 
And  in  the  place  two  fair  streams  are, 
Drawn  from  the  purple  hills  afar, 
Drawn  down  unto  the  restless  sea ; 
The  hills  whose  flowers  ne'er  fed  the  bee, 
The  shore  no  ship  has  ever  seen, 
Still  beaten  by  the  billows  green, 
Whose  murmur  comes  unceasingly 
Unto  the  place  for  which  I  cry. 

' '  For  which  I  cry  both  day  and  night, 
For  which  I  let  slip  all  delight, 
That  maketh  me  both  deaf  and  blind, 
Careless  to  win,  unskilled  to  find, 
And  quick  to  lose  what  all  men  seek. 

"  Yet  tottering  as  I  am,  and  weak, 
Still  have  I  left  a  little  breath 
To  seek  within  the  jaws  of  death 
An  entrance  to  that  happy  place, 
To  seek  the  unforgotten  face 
Once  seen,  once  kissed,  once  reft  from  me 
Anigh  the  murmuring  of  the  sea." 


76  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

She  ceased  her  song,  that  lower  for  a  while 
And  slower  too  had  grown,  and  a  soft  smile 
Grew  up  within  her  eyes  as  still  she  sung. 
Then  she  rose  up  and  over  Hylas  hung, 
For  now  he  slept ;  wherewith  the  God  in  her 
Consumed  the  northern  robe  done  round  with  fur 
That  hid  her  beauty,  and  the  light  west  wind 
Played  with  her  hair  no  fillet  now  did  bind, 
And  through  her  faint  grey  garment  her  limbs  seemed 
Like  ivory  in  the  sea,  and  the  sun  gleamed 
In  the  strange  jewels  round  her  middle  sweet, 
And  in  the  jewelled  sandals  on  her  feet. 

So  stood  she  murmuring  till  a  rippling  sound 
She  heard,  that  grew  until  she  turned  her  round 
And  saw  her  other  sisters  of  the  deep 
Her  song  had  called  while  Hylas  yet  did  sleep, 
Come  swimming  in  a  long  line  up  the  stream, 
And  their  white  dripping  arms  and  shoulders  gleam 
Above  the  dark  grey  water  as  they  went, 
And  still  before  them  a  great  ripple  sent. 

But  when  they  saw  her,  toward  the  bank  they  drew, 
And  landing,  felt  the  grass  and  flowers  blue 
Against  their  unused  feet ;  then  in  a  ring 
Stood  gazing  with  wide  eyes,  and  wondering 
At  all  his  beauty  they  desired  so  much. 
And  then  with  gentle  hands  began  to  touch 
His  hair,  his  hands,  his  closed  eyes ;  and  at  last 
Their  eager  naked  arms  about  him  cast, 
Arid  bore  him,  sleeping  still,  as  by  some  spell, 
Unto  the  depths  where  they  were  wont  to  dwell ; 
Then  softly  down  the  reedy  bank  they  slid, 
And  with  small  noise  the  gurgling  river  hid 
The  flushed  nymphs  and  the  heedless  sleeping  num. 

But  ere  the  water  covered  them,  one  ran 
Across  the  mead  and  caught  up  from  the  ground 
The  brass-bound  spear,  and  buckler  bossed  and  round, 


OF  JASON.  77 

The  ivory-hilted  sword,  and  coat  of  mail, 

Then  took  the  stream ;  so  what  might  tell  the  tale, 

Unless  the  wind  should  tell  it,  or  the  bird 

Who  from  the  reed  these  things  had  seen  and  heard  ? 

Meanwhile,  the  ship  being  watered,  and  the  day 
Now  growing  late,  the  prince  would  fain  away ; 
So  from  the  ship  was  blown  a  horn  to  call 
The  stragglers  back,  who  mustered  one  and  all, 
But  Theban  Hylas ;  therefore,  when  they  knew 
That  he  was  missing,  Hercules  withdrew 
From  out  the  throng,  if  yet  perchance  his  voice 
Hylas  might  hear,  and  all  their  hearts  rejoice 
With  his  well-known  shout  in  reply  thereto ; 
With  him  must  Polyphemus  likewise  go, 
To  work  out  the  wise  counsel  of  the  fates, 
Unhappy,  who  no  more  would  see  the  gates 
Of  white- walled,  fair  Larissa,  or  the  plain 
Burdened  by  many  an  over-laden  wain. 

For,  while  their  cries  and  shouts  rang  through  the  wood, 
The  others  reached  the  ship,  and  thought  it  good 
To  weigh  the  anchor,  and  anigh  the  shore, 
With  loosened  sail,  and  run-out  ready  oar, 
To  trim  the  ship  for  leaving  the  fair  bay  ; 
And  therefore,  Juno,  waiting  for  that  day, 
And  for  that  hour,  had  gathered  store  of  wind 
Up  in  the  hills  to  work  out  all  her  mind, 
Which,  from  the  Mysian  mountains  now  let  slip, 
Tearing  along  the  low  shore,  smote  the  ship 
In  blinding  clouds  of  salt  spray  mixed  with  rain. 

Then  vainly  they  struck  sail,  and  all  in  vain 
The  rowers  strove  to  keep  her  head  to  wind, 
And  still  they  drifted  seaward,  drenched  and  blind. 

But,  'mid  their  struggling,  suddenly  there  shone 
A  light  from  Argo's  high  prow,  and  thereon 
Could  their  astonished,  fearful  eyes  behold 


78  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

A  figure  standing,  with  wide  wings  of  gold, 

Upright,  amid  the  weltering  of  the  sea, 

Calm  'midst  the  noise  and  cries,  and  presently 

To  all  their  ears  a  voice  pierced,  saying :   "No  more, 

0  Jove-blessed  heroes,  strive  to  reach  the  shore, 

Nor  seek  your  lost  companions,  for  of  these 

Jove  gives  you  not  the  mighty  Hercules 

To  help  you  forward  on  your  happy  way, 

But  wills  him  in  the  Greek  land  still  to  stay, 

Where  many  a  thing  he  has  for  him  to  do, 

With  whom  awhile  shall  Polyphemus  go, 

Then  build  in  Mysia  a  fair  merchant-town, 

And  when  long  years  have  passed,  there  lay  him  down 

And  as  for  Hylas,  never  think  to  see 

His  body  more,  who  yet  lies  happily 

Beneath  the  green  stream  where  ye  were  this  morn, 

And  there  he  praises  Jove  that  he  was  born, 

Forgetting  the  rough  world,  and  every  care  ; 

Not  dead,  nor  living,  among  faces  fair, 

White  limbs,  and  wonders  of  the  watery  world. 

"And  now  I  bid  ye  spread  the  sail  ye  furled, 
And  make  on  towards  the  straits  while  Juno  sends 
Fair  wind  behind  you,  calling  you  her  friends  " 

Therewith  the  voice  ceased,  and  the  storm  was  still, 
And  afterward  they  had  good  wind  at  will 
To  help  them  toward  the  straits,  but  all  the  rest, 
Rejoicing  at  the  speeding  of  their  quest, 
Yet  wondered  much  whence  that  strange  figure  came, 
That  on  the  prow  burnt  like  a  harmless  flame ; 
Yea,  some  must  go  and  touch  the  empty  space 
From  whence  those  words  flew  from  the  godlike  face ; 
But  Jason  and  the  builder,  Argus,  knew 
Whereby  the  prow  foretold  things  strange  and  new, 
Nor  wondered  aught,  but  thanked  the  Hods  therefore, 
As  far  astern  they  left  the  Mysian  shore. 


OF  JASON.  79 


BOOK    V. 

NOW,  driven  by  the  oar,  and  feeling  well 
The  wind  that  made  the  fair  white  sail  outs  well, 
Thessalian  Argo  flew  on  toward  the  place 
Where  first  the  rude  folk  saw  dead  Helle's  face  ; 
There,  fearful  of  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
Without  the  rocks  they  anchored  till  the  light, 
And  when  the  day  broke,  sped  them  through  the  straits 
With  oars  alone,  and  through  the  narrow  gates 
Came  out  into  Propontis,  where  with  oar 
And  sail  together,  within  sight  of  shore, 
They  went,  until  the  sun  was  falling  down, 
And  then  they  saw  the  white  walls  of  a  town, 
And  made  thereto,  and  being  come  anigh, 
They  found  that  on  an  isle  the  place  did  lie, 
And  Tiphys  called  it  Cyzicum,  a  place 
Built  by  a  goodly  man  of  a  great  race, 
Himself  called  Cyzicus,  Euzorus'  son, 
Who  still  in  peace  ruled  over  many  an  one, 
Merchants  and  other,  in  that  city  fair. 

Therefore,  they  thought  it  good  to  enter  there, 
And  going  softly,  with  sails  struck,  at  last 
Betwixt  the  two  walls  of  a  port  they  passed, 
And  on  the  quays  beheld  full  many  a  man 
Buying  and  selling,  nigh  the  water  wan. 

So,  as  they  touched  the  shore,  an  officer 
Drew  nigh  unto  them,  asking  who  they  were  ; 
And  when  he  knew,  he  cried  :  "0  heroes,  land, 
For  here  shall  all  things  be  at  your  command ; 
And  here  shall  you  have  good  rest  from  the  sea." 
Therewith  he  sent  one  to  go  speedily 
And  tell  the  king  these  folks  were  landed  there. 

Then  passed  the  heroes  forth  upon  the  fair, 


8o  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Well  builded  quays ;  and  all  the  merchant  folk 
Beholding  them,  from  golden  dreams  awoke, 
And  of  the  sword  and  clattering  shield  grew  fain, 
And  glory  for  a  while  they  counted  gain. 

But  Jason  and  his  fair  folk  passing  these 
Came  to  a  square  shaded  about  by  trees, 
Where  they  beheld  the  crowned  king  glorious  stand 
To  wait  them,  who  took  Jason  by  the  hand 
And  led  him  through  the  rows  of  linden  trees 
Unto  his  house,  the  crown  of  palaces  ; 
And  there  he  honoured  them  with  royal  feast 
In  his  fair  hall,  hung  round  with  man  and  boast 
Wrought  in  fair  Indian  cloths,  and  on  soft  beds, 
When  they  grew  weary,  did  they  lay  their  heads. 

But  he,  when  on  the  morn  they  would  away, 
Full  many  a  rich  gift  in  their  keel  did  lay, 
And  while  their  oars  were  whitening  the  green  sea, 
Within  his  temple  he  prayed  reverently 
For  their  good  hap  to  Jove  the  Saving  God. 
Hapless  himself  that  these  had  ever  trod 
His  quiet  land ;  for,  sailing  all  the  day, 
Becalmed  at  last  at  fall  of  night  they  lay  ; 
And  lying  there,  an  hour  before  midnight 
A  black  cloud  rose  that  swallowed  up  the  light 
Of  moon  and  stars,  and  therefrom  leapt  a  wind 
That  drave  the  Argo,  tottering  and  blind, 
Back  on  her  course,  and,  as  it  died,  at  last 
They  heard  the  breakers  roaring,  and  so  cast 
Their  anchors  out  within  some  shallow  bay, 
They  knew  not  where,  to  wait  until  the  day. 

There,  as  they  waited,  they  saw  beacons  flame 
Along  the  coast,  and  in  a  while  there  came 
A  rout  of  armed  men  thereto,  as  might  seem 
By  shouts  and  clash  of  arms  that  now  'gan  gleam 
Beneath  the  light  of  torches  that  they  bore. 
Then  could  the  heroes  see  that  they  from  shore 


OF  JASON.  8 1 

Were  distant  scarce  a  bowshot,  and  the  tide 
Had  ebbed  so  quick  the  sands  were  well  nigh  dried 
Betwixt  them  and  the  foremost  of  the  foe, 
Who,  ere  they  could  push  off,  began  to  go 
Across  the  wet  beach,  and  with  many  a  cry 
The  biting  arrows  from  their  bows  let  fly. 
Nor  were  the  heroes  slow  to  make  return, 
Aiming  where'er  they  saw  the  torches  burn. 

So  passed  the  night  with  little  death  of  men ; 
But  when  the  sky  at  last  grew  grey,  and  when 
Dimly  the  Argo's  crew  could  see  their  foes, 
Then  overboard  they  leapt,  that  they  might  close 
With  these  scarce  seen  far-fighting  enemies, 
And  so  met  man  to  man,  crying  their  cries, 
In  deadly  shock,  but  Jason,  for  his  part, 
Rushing  before  the  rest,  put  by  a  dart 
A  tall  man  threw,  and  closing  with  him,  drave 
His  spear  through  shield  and  breast-plate  weak  to  save 
His  heart  from  such  an  arm  ;   then  straight  he  fell 
Dead  on  the  sands,  and  with  a  wailing  yell 
The  others,  when  they  saw  it,  fled  away, 
And  gat  them  swiftly  to  the  forest  grey 
The  yellow  sands  fringed  like  a  garment's  hem, 
Nor  gave  the  seafarers  much  chase  to  them, 
But  on  the  hard  sand  all  together  drew. 

And  now,  day  growing,  they  the  country  knew 
And  found  it  Cyzicum,  and  Jason  said  : 
"Fellows,  what  have  we  done  ?  by  likely-head 
An  evil  deed,  and  luckless,  but  come  now, 
Draw  off  the  helmet  from  this  dead  man's  brow 
And  name  him."     So  when  they  had  done  this  thing 
They  saw  the  face  of  Cyzicus  the  king. 

But  Jason,  when  he  saw  him,  wept,  and  said  : 
"  111  hast  thou  fared,  0  friend,  that  I  was  led 
To  take  thy  gifts  and  slay  thee  ;  in  such  guise, 

8* 


82  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Blind  and  unwitting,  do  fools  die  and  wise, 
And  I  myself  may  hap  to  come  to  die 
By  that  I  trusted,  and  like  thee  to  lie 
Dead  ere  my  time,  a  wonder  to  the  world. 
But,  0  poor  king,  thy  corpse  shall  not  be  hurled 
Hither  and  thither  by  the  heedless  wave, 
But  in  an  urn  thine  ashes  will  I  save, 
And  build  a  temple  when  I  come  to  Greece 
A  rich  man,  with  the  fair-curled  golden  fleece, 
And  set  them  there,  and  call  it  by  thy  name, 
That  thou  mayst  yet  win  an  undying  fame." 
Then  hasted  all  the  men,  and  in  a  while, 
'Twixt  sea  and  woodland,  raised  a  mighty  pile, 
And  there  they  burned  him,  but  for  spices  sweet 
Could  cast  thereon  but  wrack  from  'neath  their  feet, 
And  wild  wood  flowers  and  resin  from  the  pine ; 
And  when  the  pile  grew  low,  with  odorous  wine 
They  quenched  the  ashes,  and  the  king's  they  set 
Within  a  golden  vessel,  that  with  fret 
Of  twining  boughs  and  gem-made  flowers  was  wrought 
That  they  from  Pelias'  treasure-house  had  brought. 
Then,  since  the  sun  his  high  meridian 
Had  left,  they  pushed  into  the  waters  wan, 
And  so,  with  hoisted  sail  and  stroke  of  oar, 
Drew  off  from  that  unlucky  fateful  shore. 

Now  eastward  with  a  fair  wind  as  they  went, 
And  towards  the  opening  of  the  ill  sea  bent 
Their  daring  course,  Tiphys  arose  and  said  : 

"  Heroes,  it  seems  to  me  that  hardihead 
Helps  mortal  men  but  little,  if  thereto 
They  join  not  wisdom  ;  now  needs  must  we  go 
Into  the  evil  sea  through  blue  rocks  twain 
No  keel  hath  ever  passed,  although  in  vain 
Some  rash  men  trying  it  of  old,  have  been 
Pounded  therein,  as  poisonous  herbs  and  green 


OF  JASON.  83 

Are  pounded  by  some  witch-wife  on  the  shore 
Of  Pontus,  —  "for  these  two  rocks  evermore 
Each  against  each  are  driven,  and  leave  not 
Across  the  whole  strait  such  a  little  spot 
Safe  from  the  grinding  of  their  mighty  blows, 
As  that  through  which  a  well-aimed  arrow  goes 
When  archers  for  a  match  shoot  at  the  ring. 

"  Now,  heroes,  do  I  mind  me  of  a  king 
That  dwelleth  at  a  sea-side  town  of  Thrace 
That  men  call  Salmydessa,  from  this  place 
A  short  day's  sail,  who  hidden  things  can  tell 
Beyond  all  men  ;  wherefore,  I  think  it  well 
That  we  for  counsel  should  now  turn  thereto, 
Nor  headlong  to  our  own  destruction  go." 

Then  all  men  said  that  these  his  words  were  good, 
And  turning,  towards  the  Thracian  coast  they  stood, 
Which  yet  they  reached  not  till  the  moonlit  night 
Was  come,  and  from  the  shore  the  wind  blew  light ; 
Then  they  lay  to  until  the  dawn,  and  then 
Creeping  along,  found  an  abode  of  men 
That  Tiphys  knew  to  be  the  place  they  sought. 
Thereat  they  shouted,  and  right  quickly  brought 
Fair  Argo  to  the  landing-place,  and  threw 
Grapnels  ashore,  and  landing  forthwith  drew 
Unto  the  town,  seeking  Phineus  the  king. 
But  those  they  met  and  asked  about  this  thing 
Grew  pale  at  naming  him,  and  few  words  said ; 
Natheless,  they  being  unto  the  palace  led, 
And  their  names  told,  soon  were  they  bidden  in 
To  where  the  king  sat,  a  man  blind  and  thin, 
And  haggard  beyond  measure,  who  straightway 
Called  out  aloud  :   "  Now  blessed  be  the  way 
That  led  thee  to  me,  happiest  of  all 
Who  from  the  poop  see  the  prow  rise  and  fall 
And  the  sail  bellying,  and  the  glittering  oars ; 
And  blessed  be  the  day  whereon  our  shores 


84  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

First  felt  thy  footsteps,  since  across  the  sea 

My  hope  and  my  revenge  thou  bring'st  with  thee." 

Then  Jason  said  :   "  Hail,  Phineus,  that  men  call 
Wisest  of  men,  and  may  all  good  befall 
To  thee  and  thine,  and  happy  mayst  thou  live  ; 
Yet  do  we  rather  pray  thee  gifts  to  give, 
Than  bring  thee  any  gifts,  for,  sooth ly,  we 
Sail,  desperate  men  and  poor,  across  the  sea." 

Then  answered  Phineus  :  "  Guest,  I  know  indeed 
What  gift  it  is  that  on  this  day  ye  need, 
Which  I  will  not  withhold  ;  and  yet,  I  pray, 
That  ye  will  eat  and  drink  with  me  to-day, 
Then  shall  ye  see  how  wise  a  man  am  I, 
And  how  well-skilled  to  'scape  from  misery." 

Therewith  he  groaned,  and  bade  his  folk  to  bring 
Such  feast  as  'longed  unto  a  mighty  king, 
And  spread  the  board  therewith;  who  straight  obeyed, 
Trembling  and  pale,  and  on  the  tables  laid 
A  royal  feast  most  glorious  in  show. 

Then  said  the  king :  "  I  give  you  now  to  know 
That  the  Gods  love  me  not,  0  guests ;  therefore, 
Lest  your  expected  feast  be  troubled  sore, 
Feast  by  yourselves  alone  while  I  sit  here 
Looking  for  that  which  scarcely  brings  me  fear 
This  day,  since  I  so  long  have  suffered  it." 

So,  wondering  at  his  words,  they  all  did  sit 
At  that  rich  board,  and  ate  and  drank  their  fill ; 
But  yet  with  little  mirth  indeed,  for  still 
Within  their  ears  the  king's  words  harshly  rang, 
And  his  blind  eyes,  made  restless  by  some  pang, 
They  still  felt  on  them,  though  no  word  he  said. 

At  last  he  called  out :   "  Though  ye  be  full  fed, 
Sit  still  at  table  and  behold  me  eat, 
Then  shall  ye  witness  with  what  royal  meat 
The  Gods  are  pleased  to  feed  me,  since  I  know 
As  much  as  they  do  both  of  things  below 
And  things  above." 


OF  JASON.  85 

Then,  hearkening  to  this  word, 
The  most  of  them  grew  doubtful  and  afeard 
Of  what  should  come  ;  but  now  unto  the  board 
The  king  was  led,  and  nigh  his  hand  his  sword, 
Two-edged  and  ivory-hilted,  did  they  lay, 
And  set  the  richest  dish  of  all  that  day 
Before  him,  and  a  wine-crowned  golden  cup, 
And  a  pale,  trembling  servant  lifted  up 
The  cover  from  the  dish ;  then  did  they  hear 
A  wondrous  rattling  sound  that  drew  anear, 
Increasing  quickly  :  then  the  gilded  hall 
Grew  dark  at  noon,  as  though  the  night  did  fall, 
And  open  were  all  doors  and  windows  burst, 
And  such  dim  light  gleamed  out  as  lights  the  cursed 
Unto  the  torments  behind  Minos'  throne  : 
Dim,  green,  and  doubtful  through  the  hall  it  shone, 
Lighting  up  shapes  no  man  had  seen,  before 
They  fell,  awhile  ago,  upon  thnt  shore. 

For  now,  indeed,  the  trembling  Minyffl 
Beheld  the  da-ughters  of      j  earth  and  sea, 
The  dreadful  snatchers,  who  like  women  were 
Down  to  the  breast,  with  scanty  coarse  black  hair 
About  their  heads,  and  dim  eyes  ringed  with  red, 
And  bestial  mouths  set  round  with  lips  of  lead, 
But  from  their  gnarled  necks  there  began  to  spring 
Half  hair,  half  feathers,  and  a  sweeping  wing 
Grew  out  instead  of  arm  on  either  side, 
And  thick  plumes  underneath  the  breast  did  hide 
The  place  where  joined  the  fearful  natures  twain. 
Grey  feathered  were  they  else,  with  many  a  stain 
Of  blood  thereon,  and  on  birds'  claws  they  went. 

These  through  the  hall  unheard-of  shrieking  sent, 
And  rushed  at  Phineus,  just  as  to  his  mouth 
He  raised  the  golden  cup  to  quench  his  drouth, 
And  scattered  the  red  wine,  and  buffeted 


86  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  wretched  king,  and  one,  perched  on  his  head, 
Laughed  as  the  furies  laugh,  when  kings  come  down 
To  lead  new  lives  within  the  fiery  town, 
And  said  :   "  0  Phineus,  ihou  art  lucky  now 
The  hidden  things  of  heaven  and  hell  to  know  ; 
Eat,  happy  man,  and  drink."     Then  did  she  draw 
From  off  the  dish  a  gobbet  with  her  claw, 
And  held  it  nigh  his  mouth,  the  while  he  strove 
To  free  his  arm,  that  one  hovering  above, 
Within  her  filthy  vulture-claws  clutched  tight, 
And  cried  out  at  him  :   "  Truly,  in  dark  night 
Thou  seest,  Phmeus,  as  the  leopard  doth." 

Then  cried  the  third  :   "  Fool,  who  would  fain  have  both 
Delight  and  knowledge,  therefore  with  blind  eyes 
Clothe  thee  in  purple,  wrought  with  braveries, 
And  set  the  pink-veined  marble  'neath  thy  throne  ; 
Then  on  its  golden  cushions  sit  alone, 
Hearkening  thy  chain-galled  slaves  without  singing 
For  joy,  that  they  behold  so  many  a  thing." 

Then  shrieked  the  first  one  in  a  dreadful  voice  :  — 
"  And  I,  0  Phineus,  bid  thee  to  rejoice, 
That  'midst  thy  knowledge  still  thou  know'st  not  this — • 
Whose  flesh  the  lips,  wherewith  thy  lips  I  kiss, 
This  morn  have  fed  on."     Then  she  laughed  again, 
And  fawning  on  him,  with  her  sisters  twain 
Spread  her  wide  wings,  and  hid  him  from  the  sight. 
And  mixed  his  groans  with  screams  of  shrill  delight. 

Now  trembling  sat  the  seafarers,  nor  dared 
To  use  the  weapons  from  their  sheaths  half-bared, 
Fearing  the  Gods,  who  there,  before  their  eyes, 
Had  shown  them  with  what  shame  and  miseries 
They  visit  impious  men  :  yet  from  the  board 
There  started  two,  with  shield  and  ready  sword, 
The  North-winds'  offspring,  since,  upon  that  day, 
Their  father  wrought  within  them  in  such  way, 
They  had  no  fear  :  but  now,  when  Phineus  knew, 


OF  JASON.  87 

By  bis  divine  art,  that  the  godlike  two 

Were  armed  to  help  him,  then  from  'twixt  the  wings 

He  cried  aloud  :   "  0,  heroes,  more  than  kings, 

Strike,  and  fear  not,  but  set  me  free  to-day, 

That  ye  within  your  brazen  chests  may  lay 

The  best  of  all  my  treasure-house  doth  hold, 

Fair  linen,  scarlet  cloth,  and  well-wrought  gold." 

Then  shrieked  the  snatchers,  knowing  certainly 
That  now  the  time  had  come  when  they  must  fly 
From  pleasant  Salmydessa,  casting  off 
The  joys  they  had  in  shameful  mock  and  scoff. 
So  gat  they  from  the  blind  king,  leaving  him 
Pale  and  forewearied  in  his  every  limb  ; 
And,  flying  through  the  roof,  they  set  them  down 
Above  the  hall-doors,  'mid  the  timbers  brown, 
Chattering  with  fury.     Then  the  fair  dyed  wings 
Opened  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  kings, 
And  on  their  heels,  and  shouting,  they  uprose, 
And  poised  themselves  in  air  to  meet  their  foes. 

Then  here  and  there  those  loathly  things  did  fly 
Before  the  brazen  shields,  and  swords  raised  high, 
But  as  they  flew  unlucky  words  they  cried. 

The  first  said  :  "  Hail,  0  folk  who  wander  wide, 
Seeking  a  foolish  thing  across  the  sea, 
Not  heeding  in  what  case  your  houses  be, 
Where  now  perchance  the  rovers  cast  the  brand 
Up  to  the  roof,  and  leading  by  the  hand 
The  fair-limbed  women  with  their  fettered  feet 
Pass  down  the  sands,  their  hollow  ship  to  meet." 

"  Fair  hap  to  him  who  weds  the  sorceress," 
The  second  cried,  "  and  may  the  just  Gods  bless 
The  slayer  of  his  kindred  and  his  name." 

"  Luck  to  the  toilsome  seeker  after  fame," 
The  third  one  from  the  open  hall  door  cried, 
"  Fare  ye  well,  Jason,  still  unsatisfied, 
Still  seeking  for  a  better  thing  than  best, 


88  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

A  fairer  thing  than  fairest,  without  rest ; 
Good  speed,  0  traitor,  who  shall  think  to  wed 
Soft  limbs  and  white,  and  find  thy  royal  bed 
Dripping  with  blood,  and  burning  up  with  fire  ; 
Good  hap  to  him  who  henceforth  ne'er  shall  tire 
In  seeking  good  that  ever  flies  his  hand 
Till  he  lies  buried  in  an  alien  land  !  " 

So  screamed  the  monstrous  fowl,  but  now  the  twain 
Sprung  from  the  North-wind's  loins  to  be  their  bane, 
Drew  nigh  unto  them  ;  then,  with  huddled  wings, 
Forth  from  the  hall  they  gat,  but  evil  things 
In  flying  they  gave  forth  with  weakened  voice, 
Saying  unto  them  :   "  0  ye  men,  rejoice, 
Whose  bodies  worms  shall  feed  on  soon  or  late, 
Blind  slaves,  and  foolish  of  unsparing  fate, 
Seeking  for  that  which  ye  can  never  get, 
Whilst  life  and  death  alike  ye  do  forget 
In  needless  strife,  until  on  some  sure  day 
Death  takes  your  scarcely  tasted  life  away." 

Quivering  their  voices  ceased  as  on  they  flew 
Before  the  swift  wings  of  the  godlike  two 
Far  over  land  and  sea,  until  they  were 
Anigh  the  isles  called  Strophades,  and  there, 
With  tired  wings,  all  voiceless  did  they  light, 
Trembling  to  see  anigh  the  armor  bright 
The  wind-born  brothers  bore,  but  as  these  drew 
Their  gleaming  swords  and  to  the  monsters  flew, 
From  out  the  deep  rose  up  a  black-haired  man, 
Who,  standing  on  the  white-topped  waves  that  ran 
On  towards  the  shore,  cried  :   "  Heroes,  turn  again, 
For  on  this  islet  shall  ye  land  in  vain, 
But  without  sorrow  leave  the  chase  of  these 
Who  henceforth  'mid  the  rocky  Strophades 
Shall  dwell  for  ever,  servants  unto  me, 
Working  my  will,  therefore  rejoice  that  ye 
Win  gifts  and  honour  for  your  deed  to-day." 


OF  JASON.  89 

Then,  even  as  he  spoke,  they  saw  but  grey, 
White  headed  waves  rolling  where  he  had  stood, 
Whereat  they  sheathed  their  swords,  and  through  their  blood 
A  tremor  ran,  for  now  they  knew  that  he 
Was  Neptune,  shaker  of  the  earth  and  sea  ; 
Therefore  they  turned  them  back  unto  the  hall 
Where  yet  the  others  were,  and  ere  nightfall 
Came  back  to  Salmydessa  and  the  king, 
And  lighting  down  they  told  him  of  the  thing. 

Who,  hearing  them,  straight  lifted  up  his  voice, 
And  'midst  the  shouts  cried  :   •'  Heroes,  now  rejoice 
With  me  who  am  delivered  on  this  day 
From  that  which  took  all  hope  and  joy  away ; 
Therefore  to  feast  again,  until  the  sun 
Another  glad  day  for  us  has  begun, 
And  then,  indeed,  if  ye  must  try  the  sea, 
With  gifts  and  counsel  shall  ye  go  from  me ; 
Such  as  the  Gods  have  given  me  to  give, 
And  happy  lives  and  glorious  may  ye  live." 

Then  did  they  fall  to  banqueting  again, 
Forgetting  all  forebodings  and  all  pain  ; 
And  when  that  they  had  ate  and  drank  enow, 
With  songs  and  music,  and  a  goodly  show, 
Their  hearts  were  gladdened,  for  before  their  eyes 
Played  youths  and  damsels  with  strange  fantasies, 
Clad  as  in  Saturn's  time  folk  used  to  be, 
With  green  leaves  gathered  from  the  summer  tree, 
When  all  the  year  was  summer  everywhere, 
And  every  man  and  woman  blest  and  fair. 

So,  set  'twixt  pleasure  and  some  soft  regret, 
All  cares  of  mortal  men  did  they  forget, 
Except  the  vague  desire  not  to  die, 
The  hopeless  wish  to  flee  from  certainty, 
That  sights  and  sounds  we  love  will  bring  on  us 
In  this  sweet  fleeting  world  and  piteous. 


90  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 


BOOK     VI. 

BUT  on  the  morrow  did  they  get  them  gone, 
Gifted  with  gold  and  many  a  precious  stone, 
And  many  a  bale  of  scarlet  cloth  and  spice, 
And  arms  well  wrought,  and  goodly  robes  of  price. 
But  chiefly  to  the  wind-born  brothers  strong 
Did  gifts  past  telling  on  that  morn  belong. 

Now  as  they  stood  upon  the  windy  quay, 
Heady  their  hands  upon  the  ropes  to  lay, 
Phineus,  who  'midst  his  mighty  lords  was  there, 
Set  high  above  them  in  a  royal  chair, 
Said  :  "  Many  a  gift  ye  have  of  me  to-day 
Within  your  treasuries  at  home  to  lay, 
If  so  it  be  that  through  hard  things  and  pain 
Ye  come  to  the  horse-nurturing  land  again  ; 
Natheless,  one  more  gift  shall  ye  have  of  me, 
For  lacking  that,  beneath  the  greedy  sea, 
The  mighty  tomb  of  mariners  and  kings, 
Doubt  not  to  lay  down  these  desired  things, 
Nor  think  to  come  to  Thessaly  at  all." 
And  therewith  turning,  he  began  to  call 
Unto  his  folk  to  bring  what  they  had  there. 
Then  one  brought  forward  a  cage  great  and  fair, 
Wherein  they  saw  a  grey,  pink-footed  dove. 

Then  said  the  king  :   "  The  very  Gods  above 
Can  scantly  help  you  more  than  now  I  do. 
For  listen  ;  as  upon  this  day  ye  go 
Unto  the  narrow  ending  of  the  sea, 
Anigh  the  clashing  rocks  lie  patiently, 
And  let  the  keenest-eyed  among  you  stand 
Upon  the  prow,  and  let  loose  from  his  hand 
This  dove,  who  from  my  mouth  to-day  has  heard 
So  many  a  mystic  and  compelling  word, 


OF  JASON.  91 

He  cannot  choose,  being  loosed,  but  fly  down  straight 

Unto  the  opening  of  that  dreadful  gate  ; 

So  let  the  keen-eyed  watch,  and  if  so  be 

He  comes  out  safe  into  the  evil  sea, 

Then  bend  unto  the  oars,  nor  fear  at  all 

Of  aught  that  from  the  dashers  may  befall ; 

But  if  he  perish,  then  turn  back  again, 

And  know  the  Gods  have  made  your  passage  vain. 

Thereafter,  if  ye  will,  come  back  to  me, 

And  if  ye  find  nought  in  my  treasury 

That  ye  desire,  yet  ye  at  least  shall  have 

A  king  and  a  king's  son  to  be  your  slave  ; 

And  all  things  here  still  may  ye  bind  and  loose, 

And  from  our  women  freely  may  ye  choose, 

Nor  spare  the  fairest  or  most  chaste  to  kiss, 

And  in  fair  houses  shall  ye  live  in  bliss." 

"  0  king,"  said  Jason,  "  know  that  on  this  day 
I  will  not  be  foresworn,  but  by  some  way 
Will  reach  the  oak-grove  and  the  Golden  Fleece, 
Or,  failing,  die  at  least  far  off  from  Greece, 
Not  unremembered  ;  yet  great  thanks  we  give 
For  this  thy  gift  and  counsel,  and  will  strive 
To  come  to  Colchis  through  the  unknown  land 
And  whatso  perils  wait  us,  if  Jove's  hand 
Be  heavy  on  us,  and  the  great  blue  gates 
Are  shut  against  us  by  the  unmoved  fates. 
Farewell,  0  king,  and  henceforth,  free  from  ill, 
Live  happy  as  thou  mayst,  and  honoured  still." 

Then  turned  he,  shouting,  to  the  Minyae, 
Who  o'er  the  gangways  rushed  tumultuously, 
And  from  the  land  great  Argo  straightway  thrust, 
And  gat  them  to  their  work,  hot  with  the  lust 
Of  fame  and  noble  deeds,  and  happy  prize. 
But  the  bird  Lynceus  took,  unto  whose  eyes 
The  night  was  as  the  day,  and  fire  as  air. 


92  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  back  into  his  marble  palace  fair 
The  king  turned,  thinking  well  upon  the  way 
Of  what  had  happed  since  morn  of  yesterday. 

Now  from  the  port  passed  Argo,  and  the  wind 
Being  fair  for  sailing,  quickly  left  behind 
Fair  Salmydessa,  the  kind,  gainful  place  ; 
And  so,  with  sail  and  oar,  in  no  long  space 
They  reached  the  narrow  ending  of  the  sea, 
Where  the  wind  shifted,  blowing  gustily 
From  side  to  side,  so  that  their  flapping  sail 
But  little  in  the  turmoil  could  avail ; 
And  now  at  last  did  they  begin  to  hear 
The  pounding  of  the  rocks  ;  but  nothing  clear 
They  saw  them  ;  for  the  steaming  clouds  of  spray, 
Cast  by  the  meeting  hammers  every  way, 
Quite  hid  the  polished  bases  from  their  sight ; 
Unless  perchance  the  eyes  of  Lynceus  might 
Just  now  and  then  behold  the  deep  blue,  shine 
Betwixt  the  scattering  of  the  silver  brine  ; 
But  sometimes  'twixt  the  clouds  the  sun  would  pass 
And  show  the  high  rocks  glittering  like  glass, 
Quivering,  as  far  beneath  the  churned-up  waves 
Were  ground  together  the  strong  arched  caves, 
Wherein  none  dwelt,  no,  not  the  giant's  brood, 
Who  fed  the  green  sea  with  his  lustful  blood, 
Nor  were  sea-devils  even  nurtured  there, 
Nor  dared  the  sea-worm  use  them  for  its  lair. 

And  now  the  Minyoe,  as  they  drew  anear, 
Had  been  at  point  to  turn  about  for  fear, 
Each  man  beholding  his  pale  fellow's  face, 
Whose  speech  was  silenced  in  that  dreadful  place 
By  the  increasing  clamour  of  the  sea 
And  adamantine  rocks  ;  then  verily 
Was  Juno  good  at  heed,  who  set  strange  fire 
In  Jason's  heart,  and  measureless  desire 


OF  JASON.  93 

To  be  the  first  of  men,  and  made  his  voice 

Clear  as  that  herald's  whose  sweet  words  rejoice 

The  Gods  within  the  flowery  fields  of  Heaven, 

And  gave  his  well-knit  arm  the  strength  of  seven. 

So  then,  above  the  crash  and  thundering, 

The  Minyae  heard  his  shrill,  calm  voice,  crying  :  — 

"  Shall  this  be,  then,  an  ending  to  our  quest  'i 

And  shall  we  find  the  worst,  who  sought  the  best? 

Far  better  had  ye  sat  beside  your  wives, 

And  'mid  the  wine-cups  lingered  out  your  lives, 

Dreaming  of  noble  deeds,  though  trying  none, 

Than  as  vain  boasters,  with  your  deed  undone, 

Come  back  to  Greece,  that  men  may  sing  of  you. 

Are  ye  all  shameless  V  —  are  there  not  a  few 

Who  have  slain  fear,  knowing  the  unmoved  fates 

Have  meted  out  already  what  awaits 

The  coward  and  the  brave?     Ho  !  Lynceus  !  stand 

Upon  the  prow,  and  let  slip  from  your  hand 

The  wise  king's  bird  ;  and  all  ye  note,  the  wind 

Is  steady  now,  and  blowing  from  behind 

Drives  us  on  toward  the  dashers,  and  I  hold 

The  helm  myself;  therefore,  lest  we  be  rolled 

Broadside  against  these  horrors,  take  the  oar, 

And  hang  here,  half  a  furlong  from  the  shore, 

Nor  die  of  fear,  until  at  least  we  know 

If  through  these  gates  the  Gods  will  let  us  go  : 

And  if  so  be  they  will  not,  yet  will  we 

Not  empty-handed  come  to  Thessaly, 

But  strike  for  ^Ea  through  this  unknown  land, 

Whose  arms  reach  out  to  us  on  either  hand." 

Then  they  for  shame  began  to  cast  off  fear, 
And,  handling  well  the  oars,  kept  Argo  near 
The  changing,  little-lighted,  spray-washed  space 
W hereunto  Lynceus  set  his  eager  face, 
And  loosed  the  dove,  who  down  the  west  wind  flew ; 

9* 


94  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  all  the  others  lost  her,  dashing  through 
The  clouds  of  spray,  but  Lynceus  noted  how 
She  reached  the  open  space,  just  as  a  blow 
Had  spent  itself,  and  still  the  hollow  sound 
Of  the  last  clash  was  booming  all  around  ; 
And  eagerly  he  noted  how  the  dove 
Stopped  'mazed,  and  hovered  for  awhile  above 
The  troubled  sea,  then  stooping,  darted  through, 
As  the  blue  gleaming  rocks  together  drew  ; 
Then  scarce  he  breathed,  until  a  joyous  shout 
He  gave,  as  he  beheld  her  passing  out 
Unscathed,  above  the  surface  of  the  sea, 
While  back  again  the  rocks  drew  sluggishly. 

Then  back  their  poised  oars  whirled,  and  straight  they 

drave 

Unto  the  opening  of  the  spray-arched  cave  ; 
But  Jason's  eyes  alone,  of  all  the  crew, 
Beheld  the  sunny  sea  and  cloudless  blue, 
Still  narrowing,  but  bright  from  rock  to  rock. 

Now  as  they  neared,  came  the  next  thundering  shock, 
That  deafened  all,  and  with  an  icy  cloud 
Hid  man  from  man  ;  but  Jason,  shouting  loud, 
Still  clutched  the  tiller  ;  and  the  oars,  grasped  tight 
By  mighty  hands,  drave  on  the  ship  forthright 
Unto  the  rocks,  until,  with  blinded  eyes, 
They  blinked  one  moment  at  those  mysteries 
Unseen  before,  the  next  they  felt  the  sun 
Full  on  their  backs,  and  knew  their  deed  was  done. 

Then  on  their  oars  they  lay,  and  Jason  turned, 
And  o'er  the  rocks  beheld  how  Iris  burned 
In  fair  and  harmless  many-colon  rod  flame, 
And  he  beheld  the  way  by  which  they  came 
Wide  open,  changeless,  of  its  spray-clouds  cleared  ; 
And  though  in  his  bewildered  ears  he  heard 
The  tumult  yet,  that  all  was  stilled  he  knew, 


OF  JASON.  95 

While  in  and  out  the  unused  sea-fowl  flew 
Betwixt  them,  and  the  now  subsiding  sea 
Lapped  round  about  their  dark  feet  quietly. 

So,  turning  to  the  Minyae,  he  cried  :  — 
"  See  ye,  0  fellows,  the  gates  opened  wide, 
And  chained  fast  by  the  Gods,  nor  think  to  miss 
The  very  end  we  seek,  or  well-earned  bliss 
When  once  again  we  feel  our  country's  earth, 
And  'twixt  the  tears  of  elders,  and  the  mirth 
Of  young  men  grown  to  manhood  since  we  left, 
And  longing  eyes  of  girls,  the  fleece,  once  reft 
From  a  king's  son  of  Greece,  we  hang  again 
In  Neptune's  temple,  nigh  the  murmuring  main." 

Then  all  men,  with  their  eyes  now  cleared  of  brine, 
Beheld  the  many-coloured  rainbow  shine 
Over  the  rocks,  and  saw  it  fade  away, 
And  saw  the  opening  cleared  of  sea  and  spray, 
And  saw  the  green  sea  lap  about  the  feet 
Of  those  blue  hills,  that  never  more  should  meet, 
And  saw  the  wondering  sea-fowl  fly  about 
Their  much-changed  tops  ;  then,  with  a  mighty  shout, 
They  rose  rejoicing,  and  poured  many  a  cup 
Of  red  wine  to  the  Gods,  and  hoisting  up 
The  weather-beaten  sail,  with  mirth  and  song, 
Having  good  wind  at  will,  then  sped  along. 

Three  days  with  good  hap  and  fair  wind  they  went, 
That  ever  at  their  backs  Queen  Juno  sent, 
But  on  the  fourtli  day,  about  noon,  they  drew 
Unto  a  new-built  city  no  man  knew ; 
No,  not  the  pilot ;  so  they  thought  it  good 
To  arm  themselves,  and  thus  in  doubtful  mood 
Brought  Argo  to  the  port,  and  being  come  nigh, 
A  clear-voiced  herald  from  the  land  did  cry  : 
"  Whoso  ye  be,  if  that  ye  come  in  peace, 
King  Lycus  bids  you  hail,  but  if  from  Greece 


96  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Ye  come,  and  are  the  folk  of  whom  we  hear 
Who  make  for  Colchis,  free  from  any  fear 
Then  doubly  welcome  are  ye,  here  take  land, 
For  everything  shall  be  at  your  command." 

So  without  fear  they  landed  at  that  word, 
And  told  him  who  they  were,  which  when  he  heard, 
Through  the  fair  streets  he  brought  them  to  the  king. 
Who  feasted  them  that  night  with  everything 
That  man  could  wish  ;  but  when  on  the  next  day 
They  gathered  at  the  port  to  go  away, 
The  wind  was  foul  and  boisterous,  so  perforce 
There  must  they  bide,  lest  they  should  come  to  worse. 

And  there  for  fourteen  days  did  they  abide, 
And  for  their  pastime  oft  would  wander  wide 
About  the  woods,  for  slaying  of  the  beasts 
Whereby  to  furnish  forth  the  royal  feasts ; 
But  on  a  day,  a  closely-hunted  boar, 
Turning  to  bay,  smote  Idmon  very  sore, 
So  that  he  died ;  poor  wretch,  who  could  foresee 
Full  many  an  unknown  thing  that  was  to  be, 
And  yet  not  this,  whose  corpse  they  burnt  with  fire 
Upon  a  purple-covered  spice -strewn  pyre, 
And  set  his  ashes  in  a  marble  tomb. 
Neither  could  Tiphys  there  escape  his  doom, 
Who,  after  suffering  many  a  bitter  storm, 
Died  bitten  of  a  hidden  crawling  worm, 
As  through  the  woods  he  wandered  all  alone. 
Now  he  being  burned,  and  laid  beneath  a  stone, 
The  wind  grew  fair  for  sailing,  and  the  rest 
Bade  farewell  to  the  king,  and  on  their  quest 
Once  more  were  busied,  and  began  to  plough 
The  unsteady  plain  ;  for  whom  Erginus  now, 
Great  Neptune's  son,  the  brass  bound  tiller  held. 

Now  leaving  that  fair  land,  nought  they  beheld 
For  seven  days  but  sea  and  changeful  sky, 


OF  JASON.  97 

But  on  the  eighth  day  could  Lynceus  espy 

A  land  far  off.  and  nigher  as  they  drew 

A  low  green  shore,  backed  up  by  mountains  blue, 

Cleft  here  and  there,  all  saw,  'twixt  hope  and  fear, 

For  now  it  seemed  to  them  they  should  be  near 

The  wished-for  goal  of  .^Ea,  and  the  place 

Where  in  the  great  sea  Phasis  ends  his  race. 

So,  creeping  carefully  along  the  beach, 
The  mouth  of  a  green  river  did  they  reach, 
Cleaving  the  sands,  and  on  the  yellow  bar 
The  salt  waves  and  the  fresh  waves  were  at  war, 
As  Phryxus  erst  beheld  them,  but  no  man 
Among  them  e'er  had  sailed  that  water  wan, 
Now  that  wise  Tiphys  lay  within  his  tomb. 

Natheless  they,  wrapt  in  that  resistless  doom 
The  fates  had  woven,  turned  from  oif  the  sea 
Argo's  fair  head,  and  rowing  mightily 
Drave  her  across  the  bar,  who  with  straight  keel 
The  eddying  stream  against  her  bows  did  feel. 

So,  with  the  wind  behind  them,  and  the  oars 
Still  hard  at  work,  they  went  betwixt  the  shores 
Against  the  ebb,  and  now  full  oft  espied 
Trim  homesteads  here  and  there  on  either  side, 
And  fair  kine  grazing,  and  much  woolly  sheep, 
And  skin-clad  shepherds,  roused  from  mid-day  sleep, 
Gazing  upon  them  with  scared  wondering  eyes. 
So  now  they  deemed  they  might  be  near  their  prize  ; 
And  at  the  least  knew  that  some  town  was  nigh, 
And  thought  to  hear  new  tidings  presently, 
Which  happed  indeed,  for  on  the  turn  of  tide, 
At  ending  of  a  long  reach,  they  espied 
A  city  wondrous  fair,  which  seemed  indeed 
To  bar  the  river's  course  ;  but,  taking  heed, 
And  drawing  nigher,  soon  found  out  the  case, 
That  on  an  island  builded  was  the  place 
The  more  part  of  it ;  but  four  bridges  fair, 


98  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Set  thick  with  goodly  houses  everywhere, 
Crossed  two  and  two  on  each  side  to  the  land, 
Whereon  was  built,  with  walls  on  either  hand, 
A  towered  outwork,  lest  that  war  should  fall 
Upon  the  land,  and  midmost  of  each  wall 
A  noble  gate  ;  moreover  did  they  note 
About  the  wharves  full  many  a  ship  and  boat. 
And  they  beheld  the  sunlight  glistering 
On  arms  of  men  and  many  a  warlike  thing, 
As  nigher  to  the  city  they  were  borne, 
And  heard  at  last  some  huge  deep  booming  horn 
Sound  from  a  tower  o'er  the  watery  way, 
Whose  last  loud  note  was  taken  up  straightway 
By  many  another  farther  and  more  near. 

Now  when  they  did  therewith  loud  shouting  hear, 
Then  Jason  bade  them  arm  for  what  might  come, 
"  For  now,"  quoth  he,  "  I  deem  we  reach  the  home 
Of  that  great  marvel  we  are  sworn  to  seek, 
Nor  do  I  think  to  find  these  folk  so  weak 
That  they  with  few  words  and  a  gift  or  two 
Will  give  us  that  for  which  they  did  forego 
Fair  fame,  the  love  of  Gods,  and  praise  of  men  ; 
Be  strong  and  play  the  man,  I  bid  you  then, 
For  certes  in  none  other  wise  shall  ye 
Come  back  again  to  grassy  Thessaly." 

Then  loud  they  shouted,  clean  forgetting  fear, 
And  strong  Erginus  Argo  straight  did  steer 
On  to  the  port ;    but  through  the  crowded  waist 
Han  Jason  to  the  high  prow,  making  haste 
To  be  the  first  to  look  upon  that  throng. 
Shieldless  he  was,  although  his  fingers  strong 
About  a  sharpened  brass-bound  spear  did  meet, 
And  as  the  ashen  oars  swept  on,  his  feet 
Moved  lightly  to  their  cadence  under  him  ; 
So  stood  he  like  a  God  in  face  and  limb. 


OF  JASON.  99 

Now  drawing  quickly  nigh  the  landing-place, 
Little  by  little  did  they  slack  their  pa.ce, 
Till  half  a  bowshot  from  the  shore  they  lay ; 
Then  Jason  shouted  :   "  What  do  ye  to-day 
All  armed,  0  warriors  ?  and  what  town  is  this 
That  here  by  seeming  ye  have  little  bliss 
Of  quiet  life,  but,  smothered  up  in  steel, 
Ye  needs  must  meet  each  harmless  merchant  keel 
That  nears  your  haven,  though  perchance  it  bring 
Good  news,  and  many  a  much-desired  thing 
That  ye  may  get  good  cheap  '(  and  such  are  we, 
But  wayfarers  upon  the  troublous  sea, 
Careful  of  that  stored  up  within  our  hold, 
Phrenician  scarlet,  spice,  and  Indian  gold, 
Deep  dyeing-earths,  and  woad  and  cinnabar, 

Wrought  arms  and  vessels,  and  all  things  that  are 

Desired  much  by  dwellers  in  all  lands  ; 

Nor  doubt  us  friends,  although  indeed  our  hands 

Lack  not  for  weapons,  for  the  unfenced  head, 

Where  we  have  been,  soon  lies  among  the  dead." 
So  spake  he  with  a  smiling  face,  nor  lied  ; 

For  he,  indeed,  was  purposed  to  have  tried 

To  win  the  fleece  neither  by  war  or  stealth ; 

But  by  an  open  hand  and  heaps  of  wealth, 

If  so  it  might  be,  bear  it  back  again, 

Nor  with  a  handful  fight  a  host  in  vain. 
But  being  now  silent,  at  the  last  he  saw 

A  stir  among  those  folk,  who  'gan  to  draw 

Apart  to  right  and  left,  leaving  a  man 

Alone  amidst  them,  unarmed,  with  a  wan 

And  withered  face,  and  black  beard  mixed  with  grey 

That  swept  his  girdle,  who  these  words  did  say  :  — 
"  0  seafarers,  I  give  you  now  to  know 

That  on  this  town  oft  falleth  many  a  foe, 

Therefore  not  lightly  may  folk  take  the  land 

With  helm  on  head,  and  naked  steel  in  hand  ; 


100  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Now,  since  indeed  ye  folk  are  but  a  few, 

We  fear  you  not,  yet  fain  would  that  we  knew 

Your  names  and  countries,  since  within  this  town 

Of  -ZEa  may  a  good  man  lay  him  down 

And  fear  for  nought,  at  least  while  I  am  king, 

.^Eetes,  born  to  heed  full  many  a  thing." 

Now  Jason,  hearing  this  desired  name 
He  thought  to  hear,  grown  hungrier  for  fame, 
With  eager  heart,  and  fair  face  flushed  for  pride, 
Said  :  "  King  ^Eetes,  if  not  over  wide 
My  name  is  known,  that  yet  may  come  to  be, 
For  I  am  Jason  of  the  Minyae, 
And  through  great  perils  have  I  come  from  Greece ; 
And  now,  since  this  is  ./Ea,  and  the  fleece 
Thou  slayedst  once  a  guest  to  get,  hangs  up 
Within  thine  house,  take  many  a  golden  cup, 
And  arms,  and  dyestuffs,  cloth,  and  spice,  and  gold, 
Yea,  all  the  goods  that  lie  within  our  hold; 
Which  are  not  mean,  for  neither  have  we  come 
Leaving  all  things  of  price  shut  up  at  home, 
Nor  have  we  seen  the  faces  of  great  kings 
And  left  them  giftless ;  therefore  take  these  things 
And  be  our  friend ;  or,  few  folk  as  we  are, 
The  Gods  and  we  may  bring  thee  bitter  care." 

Then  spake  ^Eetes  :   "  Not  for  any  word, 
Or  for  the  glitter  of  thy  bloodless  sword, 
O  youngling,  will  I  give  the  fleece  to  thee, 
Nor  yet  for  gifts,  —  for  what  are  such  to  me? 
Behold,  if  all  thy  folk  joined  hand  to  hand, 
They  should  not,  striving,  be  enough  to  stand 
And  girdle  round  my  bursting  treasure-house ; 
Yet,  since  of  this  thing  thou  art  amorous, 
And  I  love  men,  and  hold  the  Gods  in  fear, 
If  thou  and  thine  will  land,  then  mayst  thou  hear 
What  great  things  thou  must  do  to  win  the  fleece ; 
Then,  if  thou  wilt  not  dare  it,  go  in  peace. 


OF  JASON.  10 1 

But  come  now,  thou  shalt  hear  it  amidst  wine 
And  lovely  things,  and  songs  well-nigh  divine, 
And  all  the  feasts  that  thou  hast  shared  erewhile 
With  other  kings,  to  mine  shall  be  but  vile. 
Lest  thou  shouldst  name  me,  coming  to  thy  land, 
A  poor  guest-fearing  man,  of  niggard  hand." 

So  spake  he  outwardly,  but  inly  thought, 
"  Within  two  days  this  lading  shall  be  brought 
To  lie  amongst  my  treasures  with  the  best, 
While  'neath  the  earth  these  robbers  lie  at  rest." 

But  Jason  said  :   "  King,  if  these  things  be  such 
As  man  may  do,  I  shall  not  fear  them  much, 
And  at  thy  board  will  I  feast  merrily 
To-night,  if  on  the  morrow  I  must  die ; 
And  yet,  beware  of  treason,  since  for  nought 
Such  lives  as  ours  by  none  are  lightly  bought. 

"  Draw  on,  0  heroes,  to  the  shore,  if  ye 
Are  willing  still  this  great  king's  house  to  see." 

Thereat  was  Argo  brought  up  to  the  shore, 
And  straight  all  landed  from  her,  less  and  more, 
And  the  king  spake  to  Jason  honeyed  words, 
And  idle  were  all  spears,  and  sheathed  all  swords, 
As  toward  the  palace  they  were  gently  brought. 
But  Jason,  smiling  outwardly,  yet  thought 
Within  his  heart:   "All  this  is  fair  enow, 
Yet  do  I  think  it  but  an  empty  show ; 
Natheless,  until  the  end  comes,  will  not  I, 
Like  a  bad  player,  spoil  the  bravery 
By  breaking  out  before  they  call  my  turn, 
And  then  of  me  some  mastery  they  may  learn." 

Amidst  these  thoughts,  between  the  fair  streets  led, 
He  noted  well  the  size  and  goodly  head 
Of  all  the  houses,  and  the  folk  well  clad. 
And  armed  as  though  good  store  of  wealth  they  had, 
Peering  upon  them  with  a  wondering  gaze. 
10 


102  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

At  last  a  temple,  built  in  ancient  days 

Ere  JEtti  was  a  town,  they  came  unto ; 

Huge  was  it,  but  not  fair  unto  the  view 

Of  one  beholding  from  without,  but  round 

The  ancient  place  they  saw  a  spot  of  ground 

Where  laurels  grew  each  side  the  temple  door, 

And  two  great  images  set  up  before 

The  brazen  doors,  whereof  the  one  was  She, 

Who  draws  this  way  and  that  the  fitful  sea ; 

The  other  the  great  God,  the  Life  of  man, 

Who  makes  the  brown  earth  green,  the  green  earth  wan, 

From  spring  to  autumn,  through  quick  following  days, 

The  lovely  archer  with  his  crown  of  rays. 

Now  over  against  this  temple,  towering  high 
Above  all  houses,  rose  majestically 
jEetes'  marble  house  :  silent  it  stood, 
Brushed  round  by  doves,  though  many  a  stream  of  blood 
Had  trickled  o'er  its  stones  since  it  was  built, 
But  now,  unconscious  of  all  woe  and  guilt, 
It  drank  the  sunlight  that  fair  afternoon. 

Then  spake  .ZEetes  :  "  Stranger,  thou  shalt  soon 
Hear  all  thou  wouldst  bear  in  my  house  of  gold  ; 
Yet  ere  thou  enterest  the  door,  behold 
That  ancient  temple  of  the  Far  Darter, 
And  know  that  thy  desire  hangeth  there, 
Against  the  gold  wall  of  the  inmost  shrine, 
Guarded  by  seven  locks,  whose  keys  are  thine 
When  thou  hast  done  what  else  thou  hast  to  do, 
And  thou  mayst  well  be  bold  to  come  thereto." 

"  King,"  said  the  prince,  "  fear  not,  but  do  thy  part, 
Nor  look  to  see  me  turn  back  faint  of  heart, 
Though  I  may  die  as  my  forefathers  died, 
Who,  living  long,  their  loved  souls'failed  to  hide 
From  death  at  last,  however  wise  they  were. 
But  verily,  0  King,  thy  house  is  fair, 


OF  JASON.  103 

And  here  I  think  to  see  full  many  a  thing 

Men  love ;  so,  whatso  the  next  day  may  bring, 

Right  merrily  shall  pass  these  coming  hours 

Amidst  fair  things  and  wine-cups  crowned  with  flowers. " 

"  Enter,  0  guests,"  the  king  said,  "  and  doubt  not 
Ye  shall  see  things  to  make  the  heart  grow  hot 
With  joy  and  longing." 

As  he  spoke,  within 

Blew  up  the  horns,  as  when  a  king  doth  win 
His  throne  at  last,  and  from  behind,  the  men 
Who  hedged  the  heroes  in,  shouted  as  when 
He  stands  up  on  his  throne,  hidden  no  more. 
Then  those  within  threw  open  wide  the  door, 
And  straight  the  king  took  Jason  by  the  hand, 
And  entered,  and  the  Minyse  did  stand 
In  such  a  hall  as  there  has  never  been 
Before  or  afterwards,  since  Ops  was  queen. 

The  pillars,  made  the  mighty  roof  to  hold, 
The  one  was  silver  arid  the  next  was  gold, 
All  down  the  hall ;  the  roof,  of  some  strange  wood 
Brought  over  sea,  was  dyed  as  red  as  blood, 
Set  thick  with  silver  flowers,  and  delight 
Of  intertwining  figures  wrought  aright. 
With  richest  webs  the  marble  walls  were  hung, 
Picturing  sweet  stories  by  the  poets  sung 
From  ancient  days,  so  that  no  wall  seemed  there, 
But  rather  forests  black  and  meadows  fair, 
And  streets  of  well-built  towns,  with  tumbling  seas 
About  their  marble  wharves  and  palaces  ; 
And  fearful  crags  and  mountains  ;  and  all  trod 
By  many  a  changing  foot  of  nymph  and  God, 
Spear-shaking  warrior  and  slim-ankled  maid. 

The  floor,  moreover,  of  the  place  was  laid 
With  coloured  stones,  wrought  like  a  flowery  mead  ; 
And  ready  to  the  hand  for  every  need  : 
Midmost  the  hall,  two  fair  streams  trickled  down 


104  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

O'er  wondrous  gem-like  pebbles,  green  and  brown, 
Betwixt  smooth  banks  of  marble,  and  therein 
Bright-coloured  fish  shone  through  the  water  thin. 

Now  'midst  these  wonders  were  there  tables  spread. 
Whither  the  wondering  seafarers  were  led, 
And  there  with  meat  and  drink  full  delicate 
Were  feasted,  and  strange  dainty  things  they  ate, 
Of  unused  savour,  and  drank  godlike  wine ; 
While  from  the  golden  galleries,  divine, 
Heart-softening  music  breathed  about  the  place  ; 
And  'twixt  the  pillars,  at  a  gentle  pace, 
Passed  lovely  damsels,  raising  voices  sweet 
And  shrill  unto  the  music,  while  their  feet 
From  thin  dusk  raiment  now  and  then  would  gleam 
Upon  the  polished  edges  of  the  stream. 

Long  sat  the  Minyse  there,  and  for  their  parts 
Few  words  they  said,  because,  indeed,  their  hearts, 
O'er-burdened  with  delight,  still  dreaded  death  ; 
Nor  did  they  think  that  they  might  long  draw  breath 
In  such  an  earthly  Paradise  as  this, 
But  looked  to  find  sharp  ending  to  their  bliss. 


BOOK   VII. 

SO  long  they  sat,  until  at  last  the  sun 
Sank  in  the  sea,  and  noisy  day  was  done. 
Then  bade  .ZEetes  light  the  place,  that  they 
Might  turn  grim-looking  night  into  the  day; 
Whereon,  the  scented  torches  being  brought, 
As  men  with  shaded  eyes  the  shadows  sought, 
Turning  to  Jason,  spake  the  king  these  words  :  — 

"  Dost  thou  now  wonder,  guest,  that  with  sharp  swords 
And  mailed  breasts  of  men  1  fence  myself, 


OF  JASON.  105 

Not  as  a  pedlar  guarding  his  poor  pelf, 

Bat  as  a  God  shutting  the  door  of  heaven? 

Behold  !  0  Prince,  for  threescore  years  and  seven 

Have  I  dwelt  here  in  bliss,  nor  dare  I  give 

The  fleece  to  thee,  lest  I  should  cease  to  live  ; 

Nor  dare  I  quite  this  treasure  to  withhold, 

Lest  to  the  Gods  I  seem  grown  over-bold  ; 

For  many  a  cunning  man  I  have,  to  tell 

Divine  foreshowings  of  the  oracle, 

And  thus  they  warn  me.     Therefore  shalt  thou  hear 

What  well  may  fill  a  hero's  heart  with  fear  ; 

But  not  from  my  old  lips  ;  that  thou  mayst  have, 

Whether  thy  life  thou  here  wilt  spill  or  save, 

At  least  one  joy  before  thou  comest  to  die  :  — 

Ho,  ye,  bid  in  my  lady  presently  !  " 

But  Jason,  wondering  what  should  come  of  this, 
With  heart  well  steeled  to  suffer  woe  or  bliss, 
Sat  waiting,  while  within  the  music  ceased, 
But  from  without  a  strain  rose  and  increased, 
Till  shrill  and  clear  it  drew  anigh  the  hall, 
But  silent  at  the  entry  did  it  fall ; 
And  througli  the  place  there  was  no  other  sound 
But  falling  of  light  footsteps  on  the  ground, 
For  at  the  door  a  band  of  maids  was  seen, 
Who  went  up  towards  the  dais,  a  lovely  queen 
Being  in  their  midst,  who,  coming  nigh  the  place 
Where  the  king  sat,  passed  at  a  gentle  pace 
Alone  before  the  others  to  the  board, 
And  said  :  "  ^etes,  father,  and  good  lord, 
What  is  it  thou  wouldst  have  of  me  to-night  ?  " 

"  0  daughter,"  said  ^Eetes,  "  tell  aright 
Unto  this  king's  son  here,  who  is  my  guest, 
What  things  be  must  accomplish,  ere  his  quest 
Is  finished,  who  has  come  this  day  to  seek 
The  golden  fell  brought  hither  by  the  Greek, 
The  son  of  Athamas,  the  unlucky  king, 

10* 


106  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

That  he  may  know  at  last  for  what  a  thing 
He  left  the  meadowy  land  and  peaceful  stead." 

Then  she  to  Jason  turned  her  golden  head, 
And  reaching  out  her  lovely  arm,  took  up 
From  off  the  board  a  rich  fair-jewelled  cup, 
And  said  :   "  0  Prince,  these  hard  things  must  ye  do  :  — 
First,  going  to  their  stall,  bring  out  the  two 
Great  brazen  bulls,  the  king  my  father  feeds 
On  grass  of  Pontus  and  strange-nurtured  seeds  ; 
Nor  heed  what  they  may  do,  but  take  the  plough 
That  in  their  stall  stands  ever  bright  enow, 
And  on  their  gleaming  necks  cast  thou  the  yoke, 
And  drive  them  as  thou  mayst,  with  cry  and  stroke, 
Through  the  grey  acre  of  the  God  of  War. 

"  Then,  when  turned  up  the  long  straight  furrows  are, 
Take  thou  the  sack  that  holds  the  serpent's  teeth 
Our  fathers  slew  upon  the  sunless  heath  ; 
There  sow  those  evil  seeds,  and  bide  thou  there 
Till  they  send  forth  a  strange  crop,  nothing  fair, 
Which  garner  thou,  if  thou  canst  'scape  from  death. 

"  But  if  thereafter  still  thou  drawest  breath, 
Then  shalt  thou  have  the  seven  keys  of  the  shrine 
Wherein  the  beast's  fair  golden  locks  yet  shine  ; 
But  yet  sing  not  the  song  of  triumph  then, 
Or  think  thyself  the  luckiest  of  men  ; 
For  just  within  the  brazen  temple-gates 
The  guardian  of  the  fleece  for  ever  waits,  — 
A  fork-tongued  dragon,  charmed  for  evermore 
To  writhe  and  wallow  on  the  precious  floor, 
Sleepless,  upon  whose  skin  no  steel  will  bite. 

"  If  then  with  such  an  one  thou  needs  must  tight, 
Or  knowest  arts  to  tame  him,  do  thy  worst, 
Nor,  carrying  oft'  the  prize,  shalt  thou  be  cursed 
By  us  or  any  God.     But  yet,  think  well 
If  these  three  things  be  not  impossible 
To  any  man ;  and  make  a  bloodless  end 


OF  JASON.  107 

Of  this  thy  quest,  and  as  my  father's  friend 
Well  gifted,  in  few  days  return  in  peace, 
Lacking  for  nought,  forgetful  of  the  fleece." 

Therewith  she  made  an  end  ;  but  while  she  spoke 
Came  Love  unseen,  and  cast  his  golden  yoke 
About  them  both,  and  sweeter  her  voice  grew, 
And  softer  ever,  as  betwixt  them  flew, 
With  fluttering  wings,  the  new-born,  strong  desire  ; 
And  when  her  eyes  met  his  grey  eyes,  on  fire 
With  that  that  burned  her,  then  with  sweet  new  shame 
Her  fair  face  reddened,  and  there  went  and  came 
Delicious  tremors  through  her.     But  he  said  :  — 

"  A  bitter  song  thou  singest,  royal  maid, 
Unto  a  sweet  tune ;  yet  doubt  not  that  I 
To-morrow  this  so  certain  death  will  try ; 
And  dying,  may  perchance  not  pass  unwept, 
And  with  sweet  memories  may  my  name  be  kept, 
That  men  call  Jason  of  the  Minyse." 

Then  said  she,  trembling:  "Take,  then,  this  of  me, 
And  drink  in  token  that  thy  life  is  passed, 
And  that  thy  reckless  hand  the  die  has  cast." 

Therewith  she  reached  the  cup  to  him,  but  he 
Stretched  out  his  hand,  and  took  it  joyfully, 
As  with  the  cup  he  touched  her  dainty  hand, 
Nor  was  she  loth,  awhile  with  him  to  stand, 
Forgetting  all  else  in  that  honeyed  pain. 

At  last  she  turned,  and  with  head  raised  again 
He  drank,  and  swore  for  nought  to  leave  that  quest 
Till  he  had  reached  the  worst  end  or  the  best ; 
And  down  the  hall  the  clustering  Minyse 
Shouted  for  joy  his  godlike  face  to  see. 
But  she,  departing,  made  no  further  sign 
Of  her  desires ;  but,  while  with  song  and  wine 
They  feasted  till  the  fevered  night  was  late, 
Within  her  chamber  sat,  made  blind  by  fate. 


io8  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But,  when  all  hushed  and  still  the  palace  grew, 
She  put  her  gold  robes  off,  and  on  her  drew 
A  dusky  gown,  and  with  a  wallet  small 
And  cutting  wood-knife  girt  herself  withal, 
And  from  her  dainty  chamber  softly  passed 
Through  stairs  and  corridors,  until  at  last 
She  came  down  to  a  gilded  Watergate, 
Which  with  a  golden  key  she  opened  straight, 
And  swiftly  stept  into  a  little  boat, 
And,  pushing  off  from  shore,  began  to  float 
Adown  the  stream,  and  with  her  tender  hands 
And  half-bared  arms,  the  wonder  of  all  lands, 
Rowed  strongly  through  the  starlit  gusty  night 
As  though  she  knew  the  watery  way  aright. 

So,  from  the  city  being  gone  apace, 
Turning  the  boat's  head,  did  she  near  a  space, 
Where,  by  the  water's  edge,  a  thick  yew  wood 
Made  a  black  blot  on  the  dim  gleaming  flood ; 
But  when  she  reached  it,  dropping  either  oar 
Upon  the  grassy  bank,  she  leapt  ashore, 
And  to  a  yew-bough  made  the  boat's  head  fast. 
Then  here  and  there  quick  glances  did  she  cast, 
And  listened,  lest  some  wanderer  should  be  nigh. 
Then  by  the  river's  side  she  tremblingly 
Undid  the  bands  that  bound  her  yellow  hair 
And  let  it  float  about  her,  and  made  bare 
Her  shoulder  and  right  arm,  and,  kneeling  down, 
Drew  off  her  shoes,  and  girded  up  her  gown, 
And  in  the  river  washed  her  silver  feet 
And  trembling  hands,  arid  then  turned  round  to  meet 
The  yew-wood's  darkness,  gross  and  palpable, 
As  though  she  made  for  some  place  known  full  well. 

Beneath  her  feet  the  way  was  rough  enow, 
And  often  would  she  meet  some  trunk  or  bough, 
And  draw  back  shrinking,  then  press  on  again 
With  eager  steps,  not  heeding  fear  or  pain  ; 


OF  JASON.  109 

At  last  an  open  space  she  came  unto, 
Where  the  faint  glimmering  starlight,  shining  through, 
Showed  in  the  midst  a  circle  of  smooth  grass, 
Through  which,  from  dark  to  dark,  a  stream  did  pass, 
And  all  around  was  darkness  like  a  wall. 

So,  kneeling  there,  she  let  the  wallet  fall, 
And  from  it  drew  a  bundle  of  strange  wood 
Wound  all  about  with  strings  as  red  as  blood ; 
Then  breaking  these,  into  a  little  pyre 
The  twigs  she  built,  and  swiftly  kindling  fire, 
Set  it  alight,  and  with  her  head  bent  low 
Sat  patiently,  and  watched  the  red  flames  grow 
Till  it  burned  bright  and  lit  the  dreary  place ; 
Then,  leaving  it,  she  went  a  little  space 
Into  the  shadow  of  the  circling  trees 
With  wood-knife  drawn,  and  whiles  upon  her  knees 
She  dropt,  and  sweeping  the  sharp  knife  around, 
Took  up  some  scarce-seen  thing  from  off  the  ground 
And  thrust  it  in  her  bosom,  and  at  last 
Into  the  darkness  of  the  trees  she  passed. 

Meanwhile,  the  fire  burned  with  clear  red  flame, 
Not  wasting  aught ;  but  when  again  she  came 
Into  its  light,  within  her  caught-up  gown 
Much  herbs  she  had,  and  on  her  head  a  crown 
Of  dank  night-flowering  grasses,  known  to  few. 

But,  casting  down  the  mystic  herbs,  she  drew 
From  out  her  wallet  a  bowl  polished  bright, 
Brazen,  and  wrought  with  figures  black  and  white, 
Which  from  the  stream  she  filled  with  water  thin, 
And,  kneeling  by  the  fire,  cast  therein 
Shreddings  of  many  herbs,  and  setting  it 
Amidst  the  flames,  she  watched  them  curl  and  flit 
About  the  edges  of  the  blackening  brass. 
But  when  strange  fumes  began  therefrom  to  pass, 
And  clouds  of  thick  white  smoke  about  her  flew, 
And  colourless  and  dull  the  fire  grew, 


no  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Unto  her  fragrant  breast  her  hand  she  set, 

And  drew  therefrom  a  bag  of  silken  fret, 

And  into  her  right  palm  she  gently  shook 

Three  grains  of  something  small  that  had  the  look 

Of  millet  seeds,  then  laid  the  bag  once  more 

On  that  sweet  hidden  place 'it  kissed  before, 

And,  lifting  up  her  right  hand,  murmured  low  :  — 

"  0  Three-formed,  Venerable,  dost  thou  know 
That  I  have  left  to-night  my  golden  bed 
On  the  sharp  pavement  of  thy  wood  to  shed 
Blood  from  my  naked  feet,  and  from  mine  eyes 
Intolerable  tears ;  to  pour  forth  sighs 
In  the  thick  darkness,  as  with  footsteps  weak 
And  trembling  knees  I  prowl  about  to  seek 
That  which  I  need  forsooth,  but  fear  to  find? 
What  wouldest  thou,  my  Lady?  art  thou  blind, 
Or  sleepest  thou,  or  dost  thou,  dread  one,  see 
About  me  somewhat  that  misliketh  thee  ? 
What  crown  but  thine  is  on  mine  unbound  hair, 
What  jewel  on  mine  arms,  or  have  I  care 
Against  the  flinty  windings  of  thy  wood 
To  guard  my  feet  ?  or  have  I  thought  it  good 
To  come  before  thee  with  unwashen  hands? 

"  And  this  my  raiment :  Goddess,  from  three  lands 
The  fleeces  it  was  woven  with  were  brought 
Where  deeds  of  thine  in  ancient  days  were  wrought, 
Delos,  and  Argos,  and  the  Carian  mead  ; 
Nor  was  it  made,  0  Goddess,  with  small  heed  ; 
By  unshod  maidens  was  the  yarn  well  spun, 
And  at  the  moonrise  the  close  web  begun, 
And  finished  at  the  dawning  of  the  light. 

"  Nought  hides  me  from  the  unseen  eyes  of  night 
But  this  alone  :  what  dost  thou  then  to  me, 
That  at  my  need  rny  flame  sinks  wretchedly, 
And  all  is  vain  I  do  ?     Ah,  is  it  so 


OF  JASON.  1 1 1 

That  to  some  other  helper  I  must  go 
Better  at  need  ?  wilt  thou  then  take  my  part 
Once  more,  and  pity  my  divided  heart? 
For  never  was  I  vowed  to  thee  alone, 
Nor  didst  thou  bid  me  take  the  tight-drawn  zone, 
And  follow  through  the  twilight  of  the  trees 
The  glancing  limbs  of  trim-shod  huntresses. 
Therefore,  look  down  upon  me,  and  see  now 
These  grains  of  what  thou  knowest,  I  will  throw 
Upon  the  flame,  and  then,  if  at  my  need 
Thou  still  wilt  help  me,  help ;  but  if  indeed 
I  am  forsaken  of  thee  utterly, 
The  naked  knees  of  Venus  will  I  try ; 
And  I  may  hap  ere  long  to  please  her  well, 
And  one  more  story  they  may  have  to  tell 
Who  in  the  flowery  isle  her  praises  sing." 

So  speaking,  on  the  fire  did  she  fling 
The  unknown  grains ;  but  when  the  Three-formed  heard 
From  out  her  trembling  lips  that  impious  word, 
She  granted  all  her  asking,  though  she  knew 
What  evil  road  Medea  hurried  to 
She  fain  had  barred  against  her  on  that  night. 
So,  now  again  the  fire  flamed  up  bright, 
The  smoke  grew  thin,  and  in  the  brazen  bowl, 
Boiling,  the  mingled  herbs  did  twine  and  roll, 
And  with  new  light  Medea's  wearied  eyes 
Gleamed  in  the  fireshine  o'er  those  mysteries ; 
And,  taking  a  green  twig  from  off  the  ground, 
Therewith  she  stirred  the  mess,  that  cast  around 
A  shower  of  hissing  sparks  and  vapour  white, 
Sharp  to  the  taste,  and  'wildering  to  the  sight ; 
Which  when  she  saw,  the  vessel  off  she  drew, 
As  though  the  ending  of  her  toil  she  knew, 
And  cooling  for  a  while  she  let  it  stand, 
But  at  the  last  therein  she  laid  her  hand, 


H2  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

And  when  she  drew  it  out  she  thrust  the  same 
Amidst  the  fire,  but  neither  coal  or  flame 
The  tender  rosy  hand  could  harm  a  whit, 
Nor  was  there  mark  or  blemish  left  on  it. 

Then  did  she  pour  whatso  the  bowl  did  hold 
Into  a  fair  gemmed  phial  wrought  of  gold 
bhe  drew  out  from  the  wallet,  and  straightway 
Stopping  the  mouth,  in  its  own  place  did  lay 
The  well-wrought  phial,  girding  to  her  side 
The  wallet  that  the  precious  thing  did  hide  ; 
Then  all  the  remnants  of  the  herbs  she  cast 
On  to  the  fire,  and  straight  therefrom  there  passed 
A  high  white  flame,  and  when  that  sunk,  outright 
The  fire  died  into  the  voiceless  night. 

But  toward  the  river  did  she  turn  again, 
Not  heeding  the  rough  ways  or  any  pain, 
But  running  swiftly  came  unto  her  boat, 
And  in  the  mid-stream  soon  was  she  afloat, 
Drawn  onward  toward  the  town  by  flood  of  tide. 

Nor  heeded  she  that  by  the  river  side 
Still  lay  her  golden  shoes,  a  goodly  prize 
To  some  rough  fisher  in  whose  sleepy  eyes 
They  first  should  shine,  the  while  he  drew  his  net 
Against  the  yew  wood  of  the  Goddess  set. 

But  she,  swept  onward  by  the  hurrying  stream, 
Down  in  the  east  beheld  a  doubtful  gleam 
That  told  of  dawn  ;  so  bent  unto  the  oar 
In  terror  lest  her  folk  should  wake  before 
Her  will  was  wrought ;  nor  failed  she  now  to  hear 
From  neighbouring  homesteads  shrilly  notes  and  clear 
Of  waking  cocks,  and  twittering  from  the  sedge 
Of  restless  birds  about  the  river's  edge  ; 
And  when  she  drew  within  the  city  walls, 
She  heard  the  hollow  sound  of  rare  footfalls 


OF  JASON.  113 

From  men  who  needs  must  wake  for  that  or  this 
While  upon  sleepers  gathered  dreams  of  bliss, 
Or  great  distress  at  ending  of  the  night, 
And  grey  things  coloured  with  the  gathering  light. 

At  last  she  reached  the  gilded  water-gate, 
And  though  nigh  breathless,  scarce  she  dared  to  wait 
To  fasten  up  her  shallop  to  the  stone, 
Which  yet  she  dared  not  leave  ;  so  this  being  done, 
Swiftly  by  passages  and  stairs  she  ran, 
Trembling  and  pale,  though  not  yet  seen  by  man, 
Until  to  Jason's  chamber  door  she  came. 

And  there  awhile  indeed  she  stayed,  for  shame 
Rose  up  against  her  fear  ;  but  mighty  love 
And  the  sea-haunting  rose-crowned  seed  of  Jove 
Overmastered  both;  so  trembling,  on  the  pin 
She  laid  her  hand,  but  ere  she  entered  in 
She  covered  up  again  her  shoulder  sweet, 
And  dropped  her  dusky  raiment  o'er  her  feet ; 
Then  entering  the  dimly-lighted  room, 
Where  with  the  lamp  dawn  struggled,  through  the  gloom, 
Seeking  the  prince  she  peered,  who  sleeping  lay 
Upon  his  gold  bed,  and  abode  the  day 
Smiling,  still  clad  in  arms,  and  round  his  sword 
His  fingers  met ;  then  she,  with  a  soft  word, 
Drew  nigh  him,  and  from  out  his  slackened  hand 
With  slender  rosy  fingers  drew  the  brand, 
Then  kneeling,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  breast, 
And  said  :   "0  Jason,  wake  up  from  thy  rest, 
Perchance  from  thy  last  rest,  and  speak  to  me." 

Then  fell  his  light  sleep  from  him  suddenly, 
And  on  one  arm  he  rose,  and  clenched  his  hand, 
Raising  it  up,  as  though  it  held  the  brand, 
And  on  this  side  and  that  began  to  stare. 

But  bringing  close  to  him  her  visage  fair, 
She  whispered  :  "  Smite  not,  for  thou  hast  no  sword, 
11 


H4  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Speak  not  above  thy  breath,  for  one  loud  word 
May  slay  both  thee  and  me.     Day  grows  apace  ; 
What  day  thou  knowest  !     Canst  thou  see  my  face  ? 
Last  night  thou  didst  behold  it  with  such  eyes, 
That  I,  Medea,  wise  among  the  wise, 
The  safeguard  of  my  father  and  his  land, 
Who  have  been  used  with  steady  eyes  to  stand 
In  awful  groves  alone  with  Hecate, 
Henceforth  must  call  myself  the  bond  of  thee, 
The  fool  of  love  ;  speak  not,  but  kiss  me,  then, 
Yea,  kiss  my  lips,  that  not  the  best  of  men 
Has  touched  ere  thou.     Alas,  quick  comes  the  day ! 
Draw  back,  but  hearken  what  I  have  to  say, 
For  every  moment  do  I  dread  to  hear 
Thy  wakened  folk,  or  our  folk  drawing  near  ; 
Therefore  I  speak  as  if  with  my  last  breath, 
Shameless,  beneath  the  shadowing  wings  of  death, 
That  still  may  let  us  twain  again  to  meet, 
And  snatch  from  bitter  love  the  bitter  sweet 
That  some  folk  gather  while  they  wait  to  die. 

"  Alas,  I  loiter,  and  the  day  is  nigh  ! 
Soothly  I  came  to  bring  thee  more  than  this, 
The  memory  of  an  unasked  fruitless  kiss 
Upon  thy  death-day,  which  this  day  would  be 
If  there  were  not  some  little  help  in  me." 

Therewith  from  out  her  wallet  did  she  draw 
The  phial,  and  a  crystal  without  flaw 
Shaped  like  an  apple,  scored  with  words  about, 
Then  said  :   "  But  now  I  bid  thee  have  no  doubt. 
With  this  oil  hidden  by  these  gems  and  gold 
Anoint  thine  arms  and  body,  and  be  bold, 
Nor  fear  the  fire-breathing  bulls  one  whit, 
Such  mighty  virtue  have  I  drawn  to  it, 
Whereof  I  give  thee  proof."     Therewith  her  hand 
She  thrust  into  the  lamp-flame  that  did  stand 
Anigh  the  bed,  and  showed  it  him  no-aiii 
Unscarred  by  any  wound  or  drawn  with  pain. 


OF  JASON.  115 

Then  said  :  "  Now,  when  Mars'  plain  is  ploughed  at  last, 

And  in  the  furrows  those  ill  seeds  are  cast, 

Take  thou  this  ball  in  hand  and  watch  the  thing  ; 

Then  shalt  thou  see  a  horrid  crop  upspring 

Of  all-armed  men  therefrom  to  be  thy  bane, 

Were  I  not  here  to  make  their  fury  vain. 

Draw  not  thy  sword  against  them  as  they  rise, 

But  cast  this  ball  amid  them,  and  their  eyes 

Shall  serve  them  then  but  little  to  see  thee, 

And  each  of  others'  weapons  slain  shall  be. 

"  Now  will  my  father  hide  his  rage  at  heart, 
And  praise  thee  much  that  thou  hast  played  thy  part, 
And  bid  thee  to  a  banquet  on  this  night, 
And  pray  thee  wait  until  to-morrow's  light 
Before  thou  tryest  the  Temple  of  the  Fleece. 
Trust  not  to  him,  but  see  that  unto  Greece 
The  ship's  prow  turns,  and  all  is  ready  there. 
And  at  the  banquet  let  thy  men  forbear 
The  maddening  wine,  and  bid  them  arm  them  all 
For  what  upon  this  night  may  chance  to  fall. 

"  Now  will  I  get  by  stealth  the  keys  that  hold 
The  seven  locks  which  guard  the  Fleece  of  Gold  ; 
And  while  we  try  the  fleece,  let  thy  men  steal, 
How  so  they  may,  unto  thy  ready  keel, 
Thus  art  thou  saved  alive  with  thy  desire. 

"  But  what  thing  will  be  left  to  me  but  fire  ? 
The  fire  of  fierce  despair  within  my  heart, 
The  while  I  reap  my  guerdon  for  my  part, 
Curses  and  torments,  and  in  no  long  space 
Heal  fire  of  pine-wood  in  some  rocky  place, 
Wreathing  around  my  body  greedily, 
A  dreadful  beacon  o'er  the  leaden  sea." 

But  Jason  drew  her  to  him,  and  he  said  :  — 
"  Nay,  by  these  tender  hands  and  golden  head, 
That  saving  things  for  me  have  wrought  to-night, 


Ii6  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

I  know  not  what ;  by  this  unseen  delight 
Of  thy  fair  body,  may  I  rather  burn, 
Nor  may  the  flame  die  ever  if  I  turn 
Back  to  my  hollow  ship,  and  leave  thee  here, 
Who  in  one  hour  art  become  so  dear, 
Thy  limbs  so  longed  for,  that  at  last  I  know 
Why  men  have  been  content  to  suffer  woe 
Past  telling,  if  the  Gods  but  granted  this, 
A  little  while  such  lips  as  thine  to  kiss, 
A  little  while  to  drink  such  deep  delight. 

"  W7hat  wouldst  thou  ?  Wilt  thou  go  from  me  ?  The  light 
Is  grey  and  tender  yet,  and  in  your  land 
Surely  the  twilight,  lingering  long,  doth  stand 
'Twixt  dawn  and  day." 

"  0  Prince,"  she  said,  "  I  came 
To  save  your  life.     I  cast  off  fear  and  shame 
A  little  while,  but  fear  and  shame  are  here. 
The  hand  thou  boldest  trembles  with  my  fear, 
With  shame  my  cheeks  are  burning,  and  the  sound 
Of  mine  own  voice  :  but  ere  this  hour  comes  round, 
We  twain  will  be  betwixt  the  dashing  oars, 
The  ship  still  making  for  the  Grecian  shores. 
Farewell,  till  then,  though  in  the  lists  to-day 
Thyself  shalt  see  me,  watching  out  the  play." 

Therewith  she  drew  off  from  him,  and  was  gone, 
And  in  the  chamber  Jason  left  alone, 
Praising  the  heavenly  one,  the  Queen  of  Jove, 
Pondered  upon  this  unasked  gift  of  love, 
And  all  the  changing  wonder  of  his  life. 

But  soon  he  rose  to  fit  him  for  the  strife, 
And  ere  the  sun  his  orb  began  to  lift 
O'er  the  dark  hills,  with  fair  Medea's  gift 
His  arms  and  body  he  anointed  well. 
And  round  about  his  neck  he  hung  the  spell 
Against  the  earth-born,  the  fair  crystal  ball 
Laid  in  a  purse,  and  then  from  wall  to  wall, 


OF   JASON.  H7 

Athwart  the  chamber  paced  full  eagerly, 
Expecting  when  the  fateful  time  should  be. 

Meanwhile,  Medea  coming  to  her  room 
Unseen,  lit  up  the  slowly  parting  gloom 
With  scented  torches  :  then  bound  up  her  hair, 
And  stripped  the  dark  gown  from  her  body  fair, 
And  laid  it  with  the  brass  bowl  in  a  chest, 
Where  many  a  day  it  had  been  wont  to  rest, 
Brazen  and  bound  with  iron,  and  whose  key 
No  eye  but  hers  had  ever  happed  to  see. 

Then  wearied,  on  her  bed  she  cast  her  down, 
And  strove  to  think ;  but  soon  the  uneasy  frown 
Faded  from  off  her  brow,  her  lips  closed  tight 
But  now,  just  parted,  and  her  fingers  white 
Slackened  their  hold  upon  the  coverlit, 
And  o'er  her  face  faint  smiles  began  to  flit, 
As  o'er  the  summer  pool  the  faint  soft  air. 
So  instant  and  so  kind  the  God  was  there. 


BOOK   VIII. 

NOW  when  she  woke  again  the  bright  sun  glared 
In  at  the  window,  and  the  trumpets  blared, 
Shattering  the  sluggish  air  of  that  hot  day, 
For  fain  the  king  would  be  upon  his  way. 
Then  straight  she  called  her  maidens,  who  forthright 
Did  due  observance  to  her  body  white, 
And  clad  her  in  the  raiment  of  a  queen, 
And  round  her  crown  they  set  a  wreath  of  green. 

But  she  descending,  came  into  the  hall, 
And  found  her  father  clad  in  royal  pall, 
Holding  the  ivory  rod  of  sovereignty, 
And  Jason  and  his  folk  were  standing  by, 
11* 


n8  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Now  was  ^Eetes  saying  :  "  Minyas, 
And  you,  my  people,  who  are  here  by  me, 
Take  heed,  that  by  his  wilful  act  to-day 
This  man  will  perish,  neither  will  I  slay 
One  man  among  you.     Nay,  Prince,  if  you  will, 
A  safe  return  I  give  unto  you  still." 

But  Jason  answered,  smiling  in  his  joy  :  — 
"  Once  more,  JEetes,  nay.     Against  this  toy 
My  life  is  pledged,  let  all  go  to  the  end." 
Then,  lifting  up  his  eyes,  he  saw  his  friend, 
Made  fresh,  and  lovelier  by  her  quiet  rest, 
And  set  his  hand  upon  his  mailed  breast, 
Where  in  its  covering  lay  the  crystal  ball. 

But  the  king  said  :   "  Then  let  what  will  fall,  fall  ! 
Since  time  it  is  that  we  were  on  the  way ; 
And  thou,  0  daughter,  shalt  be  there  to-day, 
And  see  thy  father's  glory  once  more  shown 
Before  our  folk  and  those  the  wind  has  blown 
From  many  lands  to  see  this  play  played  out." 

Then  raised  the  Colchians  a  mighty  shout, 
And  doubtful  grew  the  Minyse  of  the  end, 
Unwitting  who  on  that  day  was  their  friend. 
But  down  the  hall  the  king  passed,  who  did  hold 
Medea's  hand,  and  on  a  car  of  gold 
They  mounted,  drawn  anigh  the  carven  door, 
And  spearmen  of  the  Colchians  went  before 
And  followed  after,  and  the  Minyae 
Set  close  together  followed  solemnly, 
Headed  by  Jason,  at  the  heels  of  these. 

So  passed  they  through  the  streets  and  palaces 
Thronged  with  much  folk,  and  o'er  the  bridges  passed. 
And  to  the  open  country  came  at  last, 
Nor  there  went  far,  but  turning  to  the  right, 
Into  a  close  they  came,  where  there  were  dight 
Long  galleries  about  the  fateful  stead, 
Built  all  of  marble  fair  and  roofed  with  lead, 


OF  JASON.  H9 

And  carved  about  with  stories  of  old  time, 
And  all  around  them  golden  lines  of  rhyme. 
Moreover,  midmost  was  an  image  made 
Of  mighty  Mars  who  maketh  kings  afraid, 
That  looked  down  on  an  altar  builded  fair, 
Wherefrom  already  did  a  fire  glare 
And  made  the  hot  air  glassy  with  its  heat. 
So  in  the  gallery  did  the  king  take  seat 
With  fair  Medea,  and  the  Colchians  stood 
Hedging  the  twain  in  with  a  mighty  wood 
Of  spears  and  axes,  while  the  Minyae 
Stood  off  a  space  the  fated  things  to  see. 

Ugly  and  rugged  was  that  spot  of  ground, 
And  with  an  iron  wall  was  closed  around, 
And  at  the  farther  end  a  monstrous  cage 
Of  iron  bars  shut  in  the  stupid  rage 

Of  those  two  beasts,  and  therefrom  ever  came 
The  flashing  and  the  scent  of  sulphurous  flame, 
As  with  their  brazen,  clangorous  bellowing 
They  hailed  the  coming  of  the  Colchian  king ; 

Nor  was  there  one  of  the  seafaring  men 

But  trembled,  gazing  on  the  deadly  pen, 

But  Jason  only,  who  before  the  rest 

Shone  like  a  star,  having  upon  his  breast 

A  golden  corslet  from  the  treasury 

Of  wise  king  Phineus  by  the  doubtful  sea, 

By  an  Egyptian  wrought  who  would  not  stay 

At  Salmydessa  more  than  for  a  day, 

But  on  that  day  the  wondrous  breast-plate  wrought, 

Which,  with  good  will  and  strong  help,  Jason  bought ; 

And  from  that  treasury  his  golden  shoe 

Came,  and  his  thighs  the  king's  gift  covered  too ; 

But  on  his  head  his  father's  helm  was  set 

Wreathed  round  with  bay  leaves,  and  his  sword  lay  yet 

Within  the  scabbard,  while  his  ungloved  hand 

Bore  nought  within  it  but  an  olive  wand. 


120  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Now  King  ^Eetes  well  beholding  him, 
Fearless  of  mien  and  so  unmatched  of  limb, 
Trembled  a  little  in  his  heart  as  now 
He  bade  the  horn-blowers  the  challenge  blow, 
But  thought,  '  What  strength  can  help  him,  or  what  heart, 
Or  which  of  all  the  Gods  be  on  his  part  V  ' 
Impious,  who  knew  not  through  what  doubtful  days, 
E'en  from  his  birth,  and  perilous  rough  ways, 
Juno  had  brought  him  safely,  nor  indeed 
Of  his  own  daughter's  quivering  lips  took  heed, 
And  restless  hands  wherein  the  God  so  wrought, 
The  wise  man  seeing  her  had  known  her  thought. 

Now  Jason,  when  he  heard  the  challenge  blow, 
Across  the  evil  fallow  'gan  to  go 
With  face  beyond  its  wont  in  nowise  pale, 
Nor  footstep  faltering,  if  that  might  avail 
The  doomed  man  aught;  so  to  the  cage  he  came, 
Whose  bars  now  glowed  red  hot  with  spouted  flame, 
In  many  a  place ;  nor  doubted  any  one 
Who  there  beheld  him  that  his  days  were  done, 
Except  his  love  alone,  and  even  she, 
Sickening  with  doubt  and  terror,  scarce  could  see 
The  hero  draw  the  brazen  bolt  aside, 
And  throw  the  glowing  wicket  open  wide. 

But  he  alone,  apart  from  his  desire, 
Stood  unarmed,  facing  those  two  founts  of  fire, 
Yet  feared  not  aught,  for  hope  and  fear  were  dead 
Within  his  heart,  and  utter  hardihead 
Had  Juno  set  there ;  but  the  awful  beasts 
Beholding  now  the  best  of  all  their  feasts, 
Roared  in  their  joy  and  fury,  till  from  sight 
They  and  the  prince  were  hidden  by  the  white, 
Thick  rolling  clouds  of  sulphurous  pungent  smoke, 
Through  which  upon  the  blinded  man  they  broke. 

But  when  within  a  yard  of  him  they  came, 


OF  JASON.  121 

Baffled  they  stopped,  still  bellowing,  and  the  flame 

Still  spouting  out  from  nostril  and  from  mouth, 

As  from  some  island  mountain  in  the  south 

The  trembling  mariners  behold  it  cast ; 

But  still  to  right  and  left  of  him  it  passed, 

Breaking  upon  him  as  cool  water  might, 

Nor  harming  more,  except  that  from  his  sight 

All  corners  of  the  cage  were  hidden  now, 

Nor  knew  he  where  to  seek  the  brazen  plough  ; 

As  to  and  fro  about  the  quivering  cage 

The  monsters  rushed  in  helpless  and  blind  rage. 

But  as  he  doubted,  to  his  eyes  alone 
Within  the  place  a  golden  light  outshone, 
Scattering  the  clouds  of  smoke,  and  he  beheld 
Once  more  the  Goddess  who  his  head  upheld 
In  rough  Anaurus  on  that  other  tide  ; 
She,  smiling  on  him,  beckoned,  and  'gan  glide 
With  rosy  feet  across  the  fearful  floor, 
Breathing  cool  odours  round  her,  till  a  door 
She  opened  to  him  in  the  iron  wall, 
Through  which  he  passed,  and  found  a  grisly  stall 
Of  iron  still,  and  at  one  end  of  it, 
By  glimmering  lamps  with  greenish  flame  half  lit, 
Beheld  the  yoke  and  shining  plough  he  sought ; 
Which,  seizing  straight,  by  mighty  strength  he  brought 
Unto  the  door,  nor  found  the  Goddess  there. 

Who  in  the  likeness  of  a  damsel  fair, 
Colchian  Metharma,  through  the  spearmen  passed, 
Bearing  them  wine,  and  causeless  terror  cast 
Into  their  foolish  hearts,  nor  spared  to  go 
And  'mid  the  close  seafaring  ranks  to  sow 
Good  hope  of  joyful  ending,  and  then  stood 
Behind  the  maid  unseen,  and  brought  the  blood 
Back  to  her  cheeks  and  trembling  lips  and  wan, 
With  thoughts  of  things  unknown  to  maid  or  man. 

Meanwhile  upon  the  foreheads  of  the  twain 
Had  Jason  cast  the  yoke  with  little  pain, 


122  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  drove  them  now  with  shouts  out  through  the  door 
Which  in  such  guise  ne'er  had  they  passed  before, 
For  never  were  they  made  the  earth  to  till, 
But  rather,  feeding  fat,  to  work  the  will 
Of  some  all-knowing  man ;  but  now  they  went 
Like  any  peasant's  beasts,  tamed  by  the  scent 
Of  those  new  herbs  Medea's  hand  had  plucked, 
Whose  roots  from  evil  earth  strange  power  had  sucked. 

Now  in  the  open  field  did  Jason  stand 
And  to  the  plough-stilts  set  his  unused  hand, 
And  down  betwixt  them  lustily  he  bent ; 
Then  the  bulls  drew,  and  the  bright  ploughshare  sent 
The  loathly  fallow  up  on  the  right  side, 
Whilst  o'er  their  bellowing  shrilly  Jason  cried  :  — 
"  Draw  nigh,  0  King,  and  thy  new  ploughman  see, 
Then  mayst  thou  make  me  shepherd,  too,  to  thee  ; 
Nor  doubt  thou,  doing  so,  from  out  thy  flock 
To  lose  but  one,  who  ne'er  shall  bring  thee  stock, 
Or  ram  or  ewe,  nor  doubt  the  grey  wolf,  King, 
Wood-haunting  bear,  dragon,  or  such  like  thing. 
Ah  the  straight  furrow !  how  it  mindeth  me 
Of  the  smooth  parting  of  the  land-locked  sea 
Over  against  Euboea,  and  this  fire 
Of  the  fair  altar  where  my  joyful  sire 
Will  pour  out  wine  to  Neptune  when  I  come 
Not  empty-handed  back  unto  my  home." 

Such  mocks  he  said ;  but  when  the  sunlight  broke 
Upon  his  armour  through  the  sulphurous  smoke, 
And  showed  the  lengthening  furrow  cutting  through 
The  ugly  fallow  as  anigh  they  drew, 
The  joyful  Minya3  gave  a  mighty  shout ; 
But  pale  the  king  sat  with  brows  knit  for  doubt, 
Muttering  :   "  Whose  counsel  hast  thou  taken,  then, 
To  do  this  thing,  which  not  the  best  of  men 
Could  do  unholpen  of  some  sorcery? 


OF  JASON.  123 

Whoso  it  is,  wise  were  he  now  to  die 

Ere  yet  I  know  him,  since  for  many  a  day 

Vainly  for  death  I  hope  to  hear  him  pray." 

Meanwhile,  askance  Medea  eyed  the  king, 
Thinking  nought  safe  until  that  everything 
Was  finished  in  the  Colchian  land,  and  she 
No  more  beheld  its  shores  across  the  sea ; 
But  he,  beholding  her  pale  visage,  thought 
Grief  like  to  his  such  paleness  on  her  brought, 
And  turning  to  her,  said  :  "  How  pale  thou  art ! 
Yet  let  not  this  first  foil  go  to  thine  heart 
Too  deeply,  since  thou  knowest  certainly, 
One  way  or  other  this  vain  fool  must  die." 
"  Father,"  she  said,  "  a  doubt  is  on  me  still, 
Some  God  this  is  come  here  our  wealth  to  spill ; 
Nor  is  this  first  thing  easier  than  the  rest." 
Then  stammering,  she  said  :   "  Were  it  not  best 
To  give  him  that  which  he  must  have  at  last, 
Before  he  slays  us  ?"     But  .ZEetes  cast 
A  sharp  glance  at  her,  and  a  pang  shot  through 
His  weary  heart  as  half  the  truth  he  knew. 
But  for  one  moment,  as  he  made  reply 
In  passionate  words  :   "  Then,  daughter,  let  me  die  ! 
And,  ere  I  die,  beheld  thee  led  along 
A  wretched  slave  to  suffer  grief  and  wrong 
In  far  off  lands,  and  .ZEa  at  thy  back 
Nought  but  a  huge  flame  hiding  woe  and  wrack, 
Before  from  out  my  willing  open  hand 
This  wonder,  and  the  safeguard  of  my  land 
A  God  shall  take ;  and  such  this  man  is  not. 
What !  dost  thou  think  because  his  eyes  are  hot 
On  tender  maidens  he  must  be  a  God  ? 
Or  that  because  firmly  this  field  he  trod 
Well-fenced  with  magic  V     Were  he  like  to  me, 
Grey-haired  and  lean,  what  Godhead  wouldst  thou  see 
In  such  an  one  ?     Hold,  then,  thy  peace  of  this, 


124  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  thou  shalt  see  thy  God  full  widely  miss 
The  mark  he  aims  at,  when  from  out  the  earth 
Spring  up  those  brothers  of  an  evil  birth." 

And  therewithal  he  gazed  at  her,  and  thought 
To  see  the  rosy  flush  by  such  words  brought 
Across  her  face  ;  as  in  the  autumn  eve, 
Just  as  the  sun's  last  half  begins  to  leave 
The  shivering  world,  both  east  and  west  are  red. 
But  calm  and  pale  she  turned  about  her  head, 
And  said  :  "  My  father,  neither  were  these  words 
My  words,  nor  would  I  struggle  with  my  lords  ; 
Thou  art  full  wise  ;  whatso  thine  heart  would  have 
That  do,  and  heed  me  not,  who  fain  would  save 
This  glory  of  thy  kingdom  and  of  thee. 
But  now  look  up,  and  soothly  thou  shalt  see 
Mars'  acre  tilled  :  the  field  is  ready  then, 
Bid  them  bring  forth  the  seed  that  beareth  men." 

Again  with  her  last  words  the  shouts  broke  out 
From  the  seafarers,  for,  beside  the  yoke, 
Before  Mars'  altar  did  Prince  Jason  stand, 
Holding  the  wand  of  olive  in  his  hand, 
And  on  the  new  turned  furrow  shone  the  sun 
Behind  him,  and  his  half  day's  work  was  done. 

And  now  another  marvel :  for,  behold, 
As  at  the  furrow's  end  lie  slacked  his  hold 
Upon  the  plough-stilts,  all  the  bellowing 
Wherewith  the  beasts  bad  made  the  grim  close  rinjr, 
Fell  suddenly,  and  all  the  fire  died 
That  they  were  wont  erewhile  to  scatter  wide 
From  mouth  and  nostril,  and  their  loins  and  knees 
Stiffened,  and  they  grew  nought  but  images 
Lifelike  but  lifeless,  wonderful  but  dead, 
Such  as  he  makes,  who  many  a  day  hath  fed 
His  furnace  with  the  beech  wood,  when  the  clay 
Has  grown  beneath  his  deft  hands  day  by  day 


OF  JASON.  125 

And  all  is  ready  for  the  casting,  then 

Such  things  as  these  he  makes  for  royal  men. 

But  'mid  the  shouts  turned  Jason  to  the  king, 
And  said  :  "  Fair  sir,  behold  a  wondrous  thing, 
And  since  these  beasts  have  been  content  to  stay 
Before  Mars'  altar,  from  this  very  day 
His  should  they  be  if  they  were  mine  to  give." 

"  0  Jason,"  said  the  king,  "  well  mayst  thou  live 
For  many  a  day,  since  thou  this  deed  hast  done, 
But  for  the  Gods,  not  unto  any  one 
Will  I  give  gifts  ;  but  let  them  take  from  me 
What  once  they  gave,  if  so  the  thing  must  be. 
But  do  thou  take  this  sack  from  out  my  hand 
And  cast  its  seed  about  the  new-tilled  land, 
And  watch  the  issue  ;  and  keep  words  till  then, 
I  counsel  thee,  0  luckiest  of  men." 

Then  Jason  took  the  sack,  and  with  it  went 
About  that  field  new  turned,  and  broadcast  sent 
The  white  teeth  scattering,  but  or  ere  he  came 
Back  to  the  altar,  and  the  flickering  flame, 
He  heard  from  'neath  the  earth  a  muttered  sound 
That  grew  and  grew,  till  all  that  piece  of  ground 
Swelled  into  little  hillocks,  like  as  where 
A  stricken  field  was  foughten,  but  that  there 
Quiet  the  heroes'  bones  lie  underneath 
The  quivering  grasses  and  the  dusky  heath  ; 
But  now  these  heaps  the  labouring  earth  upthrew 
About  Mars'  acre,  ever  greater  grew, 
And  still  increased  the  noise,  till  none  could  hear 
His  fellow  speak,  and  paleness  and  great  fear 
Fell  upon  all ;  and  Jason  only  stood 
As  stands  the  stout  oak  in  the  poplar  wood 
When  winds  are  blowing. 

Then  he  saw  the  mounds 
Bursten  asunder,  and  the  muttered  sounds 
.  -  12 


126  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Changed  into  loud  strange  shouts  and  warlike  clang, 
As  with  freed  feet  at  last  the  earth-born  sprang 
On  to  the  tumbling  earth,  and  the  sunlight 
Shone  on  bright  arms  clean  ready  for  the  fight. 

But  terribly  they  showed,  for  through  the  place 
Not  one  there  was  but  had  his  staring  face, 
With  great  wide  eyes,  and  lips  in  a  set  smile, 
Turned  full  on  Jason,  who,  for  a  short  while, 
Forgot  indeed  Medea's  warning  word, 
And  from  its  golden  sheath  half  drew  his  sword, 
But  then,  remembering  all,  cried  valiantly  :  — 
"  New  born  ye  are  —  new  slain  too  shall  ye  be, 
Take  this,  and  round  about  it  read  your  doom, 
And  bid  them  make  new  dwellings  in  the  tomb, 
Wherefrom  ye  came,  nor  ever  should  have  passed." 

Therewith  the  ball  among  the  host  he  cast, 
Standing  to  watch  what  next  that  folk  would  do. 
But  he  the  ball  had  smitten  turned  unto 
The  one  who  stood  by  him,  and  like  a  cup 
Shattered  his  head ;  then  the  next  lifted  up 
His  axe  and  slew  the  slayer,  and  straightway 
Among  the  rest  began  a  deadly  fray. 

No  man  gave  back  a  foot,  no  breathing  space 
One  took  or  gave  within  that  dreadful  place, 
But  where  the  vanquished  stood  there  was  he  slain, 
And  straight  the  conquering  arm  was  raised  again 
To  meet  its  match  and  in  its  turn  to  fall. 
No  tide  was  there  of  fainting  and  recall, 
No  quivering  pennon  o'er  their  heads  to  flit, 
Nor  name  or  eager  shout  called  over  it, 
No  groan  of  pain,  and  no  despairing  cry 
From  him  who  knows  his  time  has  come  to  die, 
But  passionless  each  bore  him  in  that  fight, 
Scarce  otherwise  than  as  a  smith  might  smite 
On  sounding  iron  or  bright  glittering  brass. 

So,  little  by  little,  did  the  clamour  pass 
As  one  by  one  each  fell  down  in  his  place, 


OF  JASON.  127 

Until  at  last,  midmost  the  bloody  space, 
One  man  was  left,  alive  but  wounded  sore, 
Who,  staring  round  about  and  seeing  no  more 
His  brothers'  spears  against  him,  fixed  his  eyes 
Upon  the  queller  of  those  mysteries. 
Then  dreadfully  they  gleamed,  and  with  no  word, 
He  tottered  towards  him  with  uplifted  sword. 
But  scarce  he  made  three  paces  down  the  field, 
Ere  chill  death  reached  his  heart,  and  on  his  shield 
Clattering  he  fell.     So  satiate  of  fight 
Quickly  the  earth-born  were,  and  their  delight 
With  what  it  fed  on  perished,  and  one  hour 
Ripened  the  deadly  fruit  of  that  fell  flower. 

Then  Jason,  mocking,  cried  unto  the  king :  — 
"  0  wonderful,  indeed,  must  be  the  thing 
Thou  guardest  with  such  wondrous  guards  as  these  ; 
Make  no  delay,  therefore,  but  bring  the  keys 
That  I  may  see  this  dear  delight  of  all." 

But  on  Petes'  face  a  change  did  fall, 
As  though  a  mask  had  been  set  over  it, 
And  smiles  of  little  meaning  'gan  to  flit 
O'er  his  thin  lips,  as  he  spake  out  at  last :  — 
"  No  haste,  dear  guest,  for  surely  now  is  passed 
All  enmity  from  'twixt  us,  since  I  know 
How  like  a  God  thou  art ;  and  thou  shalt  go 
To-morrow  to  thy  ship,  to  make  for  Greece  ; 
And  with  no  trial  more,  bear  back  the  fleece 
Along  our  streets,  and  like  no  conquered  thing, 
But  with  much  scattered  flowers  and  tabouring, 
Bearing  with  it  great  gifts  and  all  my  love ; 
And  in  return,  I  pray  thee,  pray  to  Jove, 
That  I  may  have  a  few  more  years  of  life, 
And  end  at  last  in  honour,  free  from  strife. 
And  now  to-night  be  merry,  and  let  time 
Be  clean  forgotten,  and  bring  Saturn's  clime 
And  golden  days  upon  our  flower-crowned  brows, 
For  of  the  unseen  future  what  man  knows?  " 


128  THE    LIFE  A  AD  DEATH 

"  0  King,"  said  Jason,  "  for  these  words  I  praise 
Thy  wisdom  much,  and  wish  thee  happy  days. 
And  I  will  give  thee  honour  as  I  can, 
Naming  thee  ever  as  a  noble  man 
Through  all  the  lands  I  come  to  :  and  will  take 
Thy  gifts,  indeed,  and  thou,  for  Jason's  sake, 
Shalt  have  gifts  too,  whatso  thy  soul  may  wish, 
From  out  our  keel  that  has  escaped  the  fish." 

So  spake  those  wary  foes,  fair  friends  in  look, 
And  so  in  words  great  gifts  they  gave  and  took, 
And  had  small  profit,  and  small  loss  thereby. 
Nor  less  Medea  feigned,  but  angrily 
Regarded  Jason,  and  across  her  brow 
Drew  close  her  veil,  nor  doubted  the  king  now 
Her  faith  and  loyalty. 

So  from  the  place 

Back  toward  the  town  they  turned  at  a  soft  pace, 
In  guise  of  folk  that  hold  high  festival, 
Since  straightly  had  jEetes  bid  that  all 
Should  do  the  strangers  pleasure  on  that  day. 
But  warily  went  Jason  on  the  way, 
And  through  his  folk  spread  words,  to  take  good  heed 
Of  what  might  come,  and  ready  be  at  need, 
Nor  yet  to  take  ^Eetes  for  their  friend, 
Since  even  then  he  plotted  how  to  end 
Their  quest  and  lives :  therefore  he  bade  them  spare 
The  wine  that  night,  nor  look  on  damsels  fair  ; 
But  that,  the  feast  done,  all  should  stealthily 
Get  to  the  quay,  and  round  about  to  sea 
Turn  Argo's  head,  and  wait  like  hounds  in  slip, 
Holding  the  oars,  within  the  hollow  ship. 

"  Nor  doubt,"  said  he,  "  that  good  and  glorious 
The  end  shall  be,  since  all  the  Gods  for  us 
Are  fighting  certainly  :  but  should  death  come 
Upon  me  in  this  land,  then  turn  back  home, 
Nor  wait  till  they  shall  by  your  bones  with  mine, 


OF  JASON.  129 

Since  now  I  think  to  go  unto  the  shrine, 
The  while  ye  wait,  and  take  therefrom  the  fleece, 
Not  all  unholpen,  and  depart  in  peace, 
While  yet  the  barbarous  king  beholds  us  dead 
In  dreams  alone,  or  through  his  waking  head 
The  vile  plots  chase  each  other  for  our  death." 

These  things  he  said,  but  scarce  above  his  breath, 
Unto  wise  Nestor,  who  beside  him  went, 
Who  unto  Butes  straight  the  message  sent, 
And  he  to  Phlias,  so  the  words  at  last 
Throughout  the  wondering  seafarers  had  passed, 
And  so  were  all  made  ready  for  the  night. 

But  on  that  eve,  with  manifold  delight, 
^Eetes  feasted  them  in  his  fair  hall ; 
But  they,  well  knowing  what  might  chance  to  fall, 
Sat  saying  little,  nor  drank  deep  of  wine  ; 
Until  at  last  the  old  king  gave  the  sign 
To  break  the  feast  up,  and  within  a  while 
All  seemed  asleep  throughout  the  mighty  pile. 

All  seemed  asleep,  but  now  Medea  went 
With  beating  heart  to  work  out  her  intent, 
Scarce  doubtful  of  the  end,  since  only  two 
In  all  the  world,  she  and  ^Eetes,  knew 
Where  the  keys  were,  far  from  the  light  of  day, 
Beneath  the  palace.     So,  in  garments  grey, 
Like  the  soft  creeping  twilight  did  she  go, 
Until  she  reached  a  passage  far  below 
The  river,  past  whose  oozing  walls  of  stone 
She  and  the  king  alone  had  ever  gone. 

Now  she,  who  thus  far  had  come  through  the  dark, 
Stopped,  and  in  haste  striking  a  little  spark 
From  something  in  her  hand,  lit  up  a  lamp, 
Whose  light  fell  on  an  iron  door,  with  damp 
All  rusted  red,  which  with  a  key  of  brass 
She  opened,  and  there  through  made  haste  to  pass, 
12* 


130  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Shuddering  a  little,  as  her  feet  'gan  tread 
Upon  a  dank  cold  floor,  though  overhead 
High-arched  the  place  was,  fairly  built  enow. 

But  she  across  the  slippery  floor  did  go 
Unto  the  other  wall,  wherein  was  built 
A  little  aumbrye,  with  a  door  o'er-gilt, 
That  with  the  story  of  King  Athamas, 
And  Phryxus,  and  the  rain  all  carven  was. 
There  did  she  draw  forth  from  her  balmy  breast 
A  yellow  flowering  herb,  that  straight  she  pressed 
Upon  the  lock,  low  muttering  the  while  ; 
But  soon  across  her  face  there  passed  a  smile, 
As  backward  in  the  lock  the  bolts  did  turn, 
And  the  door  opened  ;  then  a  golden  urn 
She  saw  within  the  aumbrye,  whereon  she 
Drew  out  the  thing  she  sought  for  eagerly, 
The  seven  ke}s  with  sere-cloth  done  about. 
Then  through  the  dreary  door  did  she  pass  out, 
And  made  it  fast,  and  went  her  way  once  more 
Through  the  black  darkness  on  from  floor  to  floor. 

And  so,  being  come  to  Jason,  him  she  found 
All  armed,  and  ready ;  therefore,  with  no  sound, 
She  beckoned  him  to  follow,  and  the  twain 
Passed  through  the  brazen  doors,  locked  all  in  vain, 
Such  virtue  had  the  herb  Medea  bore, 
And  passing,  did  they  leave  ajar  each  door, 
To  give  more  ease  unto  the  Minyse. 

So  out  into  the  fresh  night  silently 
The  lovers  passed,  the  loveliest  of  the  land  ; 
But  as  they  went,  neither  did  hand  touch  hand, 
Or  face  seek  face ;  for,  gladsome  as  they  were, 
Trembling  with  joy  to  be  at  last  so  near 
The  wishcd-for  day,  some  God  yet  seemed  to  be 
'Twixt  the  hard  past  and  their  felicity. 


OF   JASON.  131 


BOOK    IX. 

BUT  when  they  reached  the  precinct  of  the  God, 
And  on  the  hallowed  turf  their  feet  now  trod, 
Medea  turned  to  Jason,  and  she  said  :  — 
"  0  love,  turn  round,  and  note  the  goodlihead 
My  father's  palace  shows  beneath  the  stars. 
Bethink  thee  of  the  men  grown  old  in  wars, 
Who  do  my  bidding  ;  what  delights  I  have, 
How  many  ladies  lie  in  wait  to  save 
My  life  from  toil  and  carefulness,  and  think 
How  sweet  a  cup  I  have  been  used  to  drink, 
And  how  I  cast  it  to  the  ground  for  thee. 
Upon  the  day  thou  weariest  of  me, 
I  wish  that  thou  mayst  somewhat  think  of  this, 
And  'twixt  thy  new-found  kisses,  and  the  bliss 
Of  something  sweeter  than  thine  old  delight, 
Remember  thee  a  little  of  this  night 
Of  marvels,  and  this  starlit,  silent  place, 
And  these  two  lovers  standing  face  to  face." 

"  0  love,"  he  said,  "  by  what  thing  shall  I  swear, 
That  while  I  live  thou  shalt  not  be  less  dear 
Than  thou  art  now?" 

"  Nay,  sweet,"  she  said,  ''  let  be  ; 
Wert  thou  more  fickle  than  the  restless  sea, 
Still  should  I  love  thee,  knowing  thee  for  such  ; 
Whom  I  know  not,  indeed,  but  fear  the  touch 
Of  Fortune's  hand  when  she  beholds  our  bliss, 
And  knows  that  nought  is  good  to.  me  but  this. 

"  But  now  be  ready,  for  I  long  full  sore 
To  hear  the  merry  dashing  of  the  oar, 
And  feel  the  freshness  of  the  following  breeze 
That  sets  me  free,  and  sniff  the  rough  salt  seas. 


132  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Look  !  yonder  thou  mayst  see  armed  shadows  steal 

Down  to  the  quays,  the  guiders  of  thy  keel ; 

Now  follow  me,  though  little  shalt  thou  do 

To  gain  this  thing,  if  Hecate  be  true 

Unto  her  servant.     Nay,  draw  not  thy  sword, 

And,  for  thy  life,  speak  not  a  single  w<  rd 

Until  I  bid  thee,  else  may  all  be  lost, 

And  of  this  game  our  lives  yet  pay  the  cost." 

Then  toward  the  brazen  temple-door  she  went, 
Wherefrom,  half-open,  a  faint  gleam  was  sent; 
For  little  need  of  lock  it  had  forsooth, 
Because  its  sleepless  guardian  knew  no  ruth, 
And  had  no  lust  for  precious  things  or  gold, 
Whom,  drawing  near,  Jason  could  now  behold, 
As  back  Medea  thrust  the  heavy  door, 
For  prone  he  lay  upon  the  gleaming  floor, 
Not  moving,  though  his  restless,  glittering  eyes 
Gave  unto  them  no  least  hope  of  surprise. 
Hideous  he  was,  where  all  things  else  were  fair ; 
Dull-skinned,  foul-spotted,  with  lank  rusty  hair 
About  his  neck  ;  and  hooked  yellow  claws 
Just  showed  from  'neath  his  belly  and  huge  jaws, 
Closed  in  the  hideous  semblance  of  a  smile. 
Then  Jason  shuddered,  wondering  with  what  wile 
That  fair  king's  daughter  such  a  beast  could  tame, 
And  of  his  sheathed  sword  had  but  little  shame. 

But  being  within  the  doors,  both  mantle  grey 
And  heavy  gown  Medea  cast  away, 
And  in  thin  clinging  silk  alone  was  clad, 
And  round  her  neck  a  golden  chain  she  had, 
Whereto  was  hung  a  harp  of  silver  white. 
Then  the  great  dragon,  at  that  glittering  sight, 
Raised  himself  up  upon  his  loathly  feet, 
As  if  to  meet  her,  while  her  fingers  sweet 
Already  moved  amongst  the  golden  strings, 
Preluding  nameless  and  delicious  things  ; 


OF  JASON.  133 

But  now  she  beckoned  Jason  to  her  side, 

For  slowly  towards  them  'gan  the  beast  to  glide, 

And  when  close  to  his  love  the  hero  came, 

She  whispered  breathlessly  :  "  On  me  the  blame 

If  here  we  perish  ;  if  I  give  the  word, 

Then  know  that  all  is  lost,  and  draw  thy  sword, 

And  manlike  die  in  battle  with  the  beast  ; 

So  dying  slialt  thou  fail  to  see  at  least 

This  body  thou  desiredst  so  to  see, 

In  thy  despite  here  mangled  wretchedly. 

Peace j  for  he  cometh,  0  thou  Goddess  bright, 

What  help  wilt  thou  be  unto  me  this  night  V  " 

So  murmured  she,  while  ceaselessly  she  drew 
Her  fingers  through  the  strings,  and  fuller  grew. 
The  tinkling  music,  but  the  beast  drawn  nigh 
Went  slower  still,  and  turning  presently 
Began  to  move  around  them  in  a  ring. 
And  as  he  went,  there  fell  a  strange  rattling 
Of  his  dry  scales ;  but  as  he  turned,  she  turned, 
Nor  failed  to  meet  the  eyes  that  on  her  burned 
With  steadfast  eyes,  and,  lastly,  clear  and  strong 
Her  voice  broke  forth  in  sweet  melodious  song  :  — 

"  0  evil  thing,  what  brought  thee  here 
To  be  a  wonder  and  a  fear 
Unto  the  river-haunting  folk  ? 
WTas  it  the  God  of  Day  that  broke 
The  shadow  of  thy  windless  trees, 
Gleaming  from  golden  palaces, 
And  shod  with  light,  and  armed  with  light, 
Made  thy  slime  stone,  and  day  thy  night, 
And  drove  thee  forth  unwillingly 
Within  his  golden  house  to  lie  V 

"  Or  was  it  the  slim  messenger, 
Who,  treading  softly,  free  from  fear, 
Beguiled  thee  with  his  smiling  face 
From  out  thy  dim  abiding  place, 


134  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

To  follow  him  and  set  thee  down 
Midst  of  this  twice-washed  royal  town  ? 

"  Or  was  it  rather  the  dread  Lord 
Who  slayeth  without  spear  or  sword, 
And  with  the  flower-culling  maid 
Of  Enna,  dwelleth  in  the  shade, 
Who,  with  stern  voice  compelling  thec, 
Hath  set  thee  here,  our  bane  to  be  ? 

' '  Or  was  it  Venus,  seeking  far 
A  sleepless  guard  'gainst  grief  and  war, 
Who,  journeying  through  thy  dismal  land, 
Beside  the  heavy  lake  did  stand, 
And  with  no  word,  but  very  sight 
Of  tender  limbs  and  bosom  white, 
Drew  forth  thy  scaly  feet  and  hard, 
To  follow  over  rock  and  shard  ? 

"  Or  rather,  thy  dull,  waveless  lake 
Didst  thou  not  leave  for  her  dread  sake, 
Who,  passing  swift  from  glade  to  glade, 
The  forest- dwellers  makes  afraid 
With  shimmering  of  her  silver  bow 
And  dreadful  arrows  ?     Even  so 
I  bid  thee  now  to  yield  to  me, 
Her  maid,  who  overmastered  thee, 
The  three-formed  dreadful  one  who  reigns 
In  heaven  and  the  fiery  plains, 
But  on  the  green  earth  best  of  all. 

"  Lo,  now  thine  upraised  crest  let  fall, 
Relax  thy  limbs,  let  both  thine  eyes 
Be  closed,  and  bestial  fantasies 
Fill  thy  dull  head  till  dawn  of  day 
And  we  are  far  upon  our  way." 

As  thus  she  sung  the  beast  seemed  not  to  hear 
Her  words  at  first,  but  ever  drew  anear, 
Circling  about  them,  and  Medea's  face 


OF  JASON.  135 

Grew  pale  unto  the  lips,  though  still  the  place 
Hung  with  the  piercing  sweetness  of  her  song ; 
•But  slower  soon  he  dragged  his  length  along, 
And  on  his  limbs  he  tottered,  till  at  last 
All  feebly  by  the  wondering  prince  he  passed, 
And  whining  to  Medea's  feet  he  crept, 
With  eyes  half  closed,  as  though  well-nigh  he  slept, 
And  there  before  her  laid  his  head  adown  ; 
Who,  shuddering,  on  his  wrinkled  neck  and  brown 
Set  her  white  foot,  and  whispered  :  "  Haste,  0  love  ! 
Behold  the  keys  ;  haste  !  while  the  Gods  above 
Are  friendly  to  us  ;  there  behold  the  shrine 
Where  thou  canst  see  the  lamp  of  silver  shine. 
Nay,  draw  not  death  upon  both  thee  and  me 
With  fearless  kisses ;  fear,  until  the  sea 
Shall  fold  green  arms  about  us  lovingly, 
And  kindly  Venus  to  thy  keel  be  nigh." 

Then  lightly  from  her  soft  side  Jason  stept, 
While  still  upon  the  beast  her  foot  she  kept, 
Still  murmuring  softly  many  an  unknown  word, 
As  when  through  half-shut  casements  the  brown  bird 
We  hearken  when  the  night  is  come  in  June, 
And  thick-leaved  woods  are  'twixt  us  and  his  tune. 

But  Jason,  going  swiftly  with  good  heart, 
Came  to  the  wished-for  shrine  built  all  apart 
Midmost  the  temple,  that  on  pillars  stood 
Of  jasper  green,  and  marble  red  as  blood, 
All  white  itself,  and  carven  cunningly 
With  Neptune  bringing  from  the  wavy  sea 
The  golden  shining  ram  to  Athamas ; 
And  the  first  door  thereof  of  silver  was, 
Wrought  over  with  a  golden  glittering  sun 
That  seemed  well-nigh  alike  the  heavenly  one. 
Such  art  therein  the  cunningest  of  men 
Had  used,  which  little  Jason  heeded  then, 


136  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  thrusting  in  the  lock  the  smallest  key 

Of  those  he  bore,  it  opened  easily ; 

And  then  five  others,  neither  wrought  of  gold, 

Or  carved  with  tales,  or  lovely  to  behold, 

He  opened ;  but  before  the  last  one  stayed 

His  hand,  wherein  the  heavy  key  he  weighed, 

And  pondering,  in  low  muttered  words  he  said  :  — 

"  The  prize  is  reached,  which  yet  I  somewhat  dread 
To  draw  unto  me  ;  since  I  know  indeed, 
That  henceforth  war  and  toil  shall  be  my  meed. 
Too  late  to  fear,  it  was  too  late,  the  hour 
I  left  the  grey  cliffs  and  the  beechen  bower, 
So  here  I  take  hard  life  and  deathless  praise, 
"Who  once  desired  nought  but  quiet  days, 
And  painless  life,  not  empty  of  delight ; 
I,  who  shall  now  be  quickener  of  the  fight, 
Named  by  a  great  name  —  a  far-babbled  name, 
The  ceaseless  seeker  after  praise  and  fame. 

"  May  all  be  well,  and  on  the  noisy  ways 
Still  may  I  find  some  wealth  of  happy  days." 

Therewith  he  threw  the  last  door  open  wide, 
Whose  hammered  iron  did  the  marvel  hide, 
And  shut  his  dazzled  eyes,  and  stretched  his  hands 
Out  toward  the  sea-born  wonder  of  all  lands, 
And  buried  them  deep  in  the  locks  of  gold, 
Grasping  the  fleece  within  his  mighty  hold. 

Which  when  Medea  saw,  her  gown  of  grey 
She  caught  up  from  the  ground,  and  drew  away 
Her  wearied  foot  from  oft"  the  rugged  beast, 
And  while  from  her  soft  strain  she  never  ceased,  • 
In  the  dull  folds  she  hid  her  silk  from  sight, 
And  then,  as  bending  'neath  the  burden  bright, 
Jason  drew  nigh,  joyful,  yet  still  afraid, 
She  met  him,  and  her  wide  grey  mantle  laid 
Over  the  fleece,  whispering  :   "  Make  no  delay  ; 


OF  JASON.  137 

lie  sleeps,  who  never  slept  by  night  or  day 

Till  now ;  nor  will  his  charmed  sleep  be  long. 

Light-foot  am  I,  and  sure  thine  arms  are  strong  ; 

Haste,  then  !     No  word  !  nor  turn  about  to  gaze 

At  me,  as  he  who  in  the  shadowy  ways 

Turned  round  to  see  once  more  the  twice-lost  face." 

Then  swiftly  did  they  leave  the  dreadful  place, 
Turning  no  look  behind,  and  reached  the  street, 
That  with  familiar  look  and  kind  did  greet 
Those  wanderers,  mazed  with  marvels  and  with  fear. 
And  so,  unchallenged,  did  they  draw  anear 
The  long  white  quays,  and  at  the  street's  end  now 
Beheld  the  ships'  masts  standing  row  by  row 
Stark  black  against  the  stars :  then  cautiously 
Peered  Jason  forth,  ere  they  took  heart  to  try 
The  open  starlit  place ;  but  nought  he  saw 
Except  the  night-wind  twitching  the  loose  straw 
From  half-unloaded  keels,  and  nought  he  heard 
But  the  strange  twittering  of  a  caged  green  bird 
Within  an  Indian  ship,  and  from  the  hill 
A  distant  baying  :  yea,  all  was  so  still ; 
Somewhat  they  doubted,  natheless  forth  they  passed, 
And  Argo's  painted  sides  they  reached  at  last. 

On  whom  down-looking,  scarce  more  noise  they  heard 
Than  from  the  other  ships,  some  muttered  word, 
Some  creaking  of  the  timbers,  as  the  tide 
Ran  gurgling  seaward  past  her  shielded  side. 
Then  Jason  knelt,  and  whispered  :  "  Wise  be  ye, 
0  fair  companions  on  the  pathless  sea, 
But  come,  Erginus,  Nestor,  and  ye  twain 
Of  Lacedgemon,  to  behold  my  gain  ; 
Take  me  amongst  you,  neither  be  afraid 
To  take  withal  this  gold,  and  this  fair  maid. 
Yare  !  —  for  the  ebb  runs  strongly  towards  the  sea, 
The  east  wind  drives  the  rack  to  Thessaly, 

13 


138  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  lightly  do  such  kings  as  this  one  sleep 

If  now  and  then  small  watch  their  servants  keep." 

Then  saw  Medea  men  like  shadows  grey 
Rise  from  the  darksome  decks,  who  took  straightway 
With  murmured  joy,  from  Jason's  outstretched  hands, 
The  conquered  fleece,  the  wonder  of  all  lands, 
While  with  strong  arms  he  took  the  royal  maid, 
And  in  their  hold  the  precious  burthen  laid, 
And  scarce  her  dainty  feet  could  touch  the  deck, 
Ere  down  he  leapt,  and  little  now  did  reck 
That  loudly  clanged  his  armour  therewithal. 

But,  turning  townward,  did  Medea  call :  — 
"  0  noble  Jason,  and  ye  heroes  strong, 
To  sea,  to  sea  !  nor  pray  ye  loiter  long  • 
For  surely  shall  ye  see  the  beacons  flare 
Ere  in  mid  stream  ye  are,  and  running  fair 
On  toward  the  sea  with  tide,  and  oar,  and  sail. 
My  father  wakes,  nor  bides  he  to  bewail 
His  loss  and  me  ;  I  see  his  turret  gleam 
As  he  goes  towards  the  beacon,  and  down  stream 
Absyrtus  lurks  before  the  sandy  bar 
In  mighty  keel  well  manned  and  dight  for  war." 

But  as  she  spoke,  rattling  the  cable  slipped 
From  out  the  hawse-hole,  and  the  long  oars  dipped 
As  from  the  quays  the  heroes  pushed  away, 
And  in  the  loosened  sail  the  wind  'gan  play ; 
But  e'en  as  they  unto  the  stroke  leaned  back, 
And  Nauplius,  catching  at  the  main-sheet  slack 
Had  drawn  it  taut,  out  flared  the  beacon  wide, 
Lighting  the  waves,  and  they  heard  folk  who  cried  : 
"  Awake,  awake,  awake,  0  Colchian  folk  !  " 
And  all  about  the  blare  of  -horns  outbroke, 
As  watch-tower  answered  watch-tower  down  the  stream, 
Where  far  below  they  saw  the  bale-fires  gleam  ; 
And  galloping  of  horses  now  they  heard, 
And  clang  of  arms,  and  cries  of  men  afeard, 


OF  JASON.  139 

For  now  the  merchant  mariners  who  lay 
About  the  town,  thought  surely  an  ill  day 
Had  dawned  upon  them  while  they  slept  at  ease, 
And,  half  awake,  pushed  madly  from  the  quays 
With  crash  of  breaking  oars  and  meeting  ships, 
And  cries  and  curses  from  outlandish  lips  ; 
So  fell  the  quiet  night  to  turmoil  sore, 
While  in  the  towers,  over  the  uproar, 
Melodiously  the  bells  began  to  ring. 

But  Argo,  leaping  forward  to  the  swing 
Of  measured  oars,  and  leaning  to  the  breeze, 
Sped  swiftly  'twixt  the  dark  and  whispering  trees  ; 
Nor  longer  now  the  heroes  silence  kept, 
So  joyously  their  hearts  within  them  leapt, 
But  loud  they  shouted,  seeing  the  gold  fell 
Laid  heaped  before  them,  and  longed  sore  to  tell 
Their  fair  adventure  to  the  maids  of  Greece ; 
And  as  the  mingled  noises  did  decrease 
With  added  distance,  and  behind  them  night 
Grew  wan  with  coming  of  the  eastern  light, 
Across  the  strings  his  fingers  Orpheus  drew, 
And  through  the  woods  his  winged  music  flew  :  — 


1'  0  surely,  now  the  fisherman 
Draws  homeward  through  the  water  wan 
Across  the  bay  we  know  so  well, 
And  in  the  sheltered  chalky  dell 
The  shepherd  stirs  ;  and  now  afield 
They  drive  the  team  with  white  wand  peeled, 
Muttering  across  the  barley-bread 
At  daily  toil  and  dreary  head. 

"  And  'midst  them  all,  perchance,  my  love 
Is  waking,  and  doth  gently  move 
And  stretch  her  soft  arms  out  to  me, 
Forgetting  thousand  leagues  of  sea ; 


140  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  now  her  body  I  behold, 

Unhidden  but  by  hair  of  gold, 

And  now  the  silver  water  kiss, 

The  crown  of  all  delight  and  bliss. 

And  now  I  see  her  bind  her  hair 

And  do  upon  her  raiment  fair, 

And  now  before  the  altar  stand, 

With  incense  in  her  outstretched  hand, 

To  supplicate  the  Gods  for  me  ; 

Ah,  one  day  landing  from  the  sea, 

Amid  the  maidens  shall  I  hear 

Her  voice  in  praise,  and  see  her  near, 

Holding  the  gold- wrapt  laurel  crown, 

'Midst  of  the  shouting,  wondering  town  !  " 

So  sung  he  joyously,  nor  knew  that  they 
Must  wander  yet  for  many  an  evil  day 
Or  ever  the  dread  Gods  should  let  them  come 
Back  to  the  white  walls  of  their  long-left  home. 
But  on  the  shouting  heroes  gazed  adown 
The  foundress  of  their  triumph  and  renown, 
And  to  her  lover's  side  still  drew  anear, 
With  heart  now  swelled  with  joy,  now  sick  with  fear, 
And  cheeks  now  flushed  with  love,  now  pale  and  wan, 
As  now  she  thought  upon  that  goodly  man, 
And  now  on  the  uncertain,  dreadful  Gods, 
And  now  upon  her  father,  and  the  odds 
He  well  might  raise  against  the  reckless  crew, 
For  all  his  mighty  power  well  she  knew ; 
And  at  that  thought  well  might  her  heart  grow  cold, 
And  well  might  she  her  wretched  self  behold, 
Led  helpless  through  some  old  familiar  place, 
With  none  to  turn  on  her  a  pitying  face, 
Unto  the  death  in  life,  she  still  might  win  ; 
And  yet,  if  she  should  'scape  the  meed  of  sin 
This  once,  the  world  was  fair  and  bright  enough, 


OF  JASON.  141 

And  love  there  was  to  lead  her  o'er  the  rough 
Of  life,  and  love  to  crown  her  head  with  flowers, 
And  fill  her  days  and  nights  with  happy  hours. 

Now  swift  beneath  the  oar-strokes  Argo  flew, 
While  the  sun  rose  behind  them,  and  they  drew 
Unto  the  river's  mouth,  nor  failed  to  see 
Absyrtus'  galley  waiting  watchfully 
Betwixt  them  and  the  white-topped  turbid  bar. 
Therefore  they  gat  them  ready  now  for  war, 
With  joyful  hearts,  for  sharp  they  sniffed  the  sea, 
And  saw  the  great  waves  tumbling  green  and  free 
Outside  the  bar  upon  the  way  to  Greece, 
The  rough  green  way  to  glory  and  sweet  peace. 

Then  to  the  prow  gat  Jason,  and  the  inaid 
Must  needs  be  with  him,  though  right  sore  afraid, 
As  nearing  now  the  Colchian  ship,  they  hung 
On  balanced  oars;  but  the  wild  Areas  strung 
His  deadly  bow,  and  clomb  into  the  top. 

Then  Jason  cried  :   "  Absyrtus,  will  ye  stop 
Our  peaceful  keel,  or  let  us  take  the  sea  ? 
Soothly,  have  we  no  will  to  fight  with  thee 
If  we  may  pass  unfoughten  :  therefore  say, 
What  is  it  thou  wilt  have  this  dawn  of  day  ?  " 

Now  on  the  other  prow  Absyrtus  stood, 
His  visage  red  with  eager  wrathful  blood, 
And  in  his  right  hand  shook  a  mighty  spear, 
And  said  :  "  0  seafarers,  ye  pass  not  here, 
For  gifts  or  prayers,  but  if  it  must  be  so, 
Over  our  sunken  bulwarks  shall  ye  go  ; 
Nor  ask  me  why,  for  thus  my  father  wills. 
Yet,  as  I  now  behold  you,  my  heart  thrills 
With  wrath  indeed  ;  and  hearken  for  what  cause, 
That  ye  against  all  friendship  and  good  laws 
Bear  off  my  sister  with  you  ;  wherefore  now 
Mars  give  you  courage  and  a  brazen  brow  ! 

13* 


I42  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

That  ye  may  try  this  dangerous  pass  in  vain, 
For  sootbly,  of  your  slaughter  am  I  fain." 

Then  Jason  wrathfully  threw  up  his  head, 
But  ere  the  shout  came,  fair  Medea  said, 
In  trembling  whisper  thrilling  through  his  ear :  — 

"  Haste,  quick  upon  them  !  if  before  is  fear, 
Behind  is  death  !  "     Then  Jason  turning,  saw 
A  tall  ship  staggering  with  the  gusty  flaw, 
Just  entering  the  long  reach  where  they  were, 
And  heard  her  horns  through  the  fresh  morning  air. 

Then  lifted  he  his  hand,  and  with  a  cry 
Back  flew  the  balanced  oars  full  orderly, 
And  toward  the  doomed  ship  mighty  Argo  passed  ; 
Thereon  Absyrtus  shouted  loud,  and  cast 
His  spear  at  Jason,  that  before  his  feet 
Stuck  in  the  deck  ;  then  out  the  arrows  fleet 
Burst  from  the  Colchians ;  and  scarce  did  they  spare 
Medea's  trembling  side  and  bosom  fair  ; 
But  Jason,  roaring  as  the  lioness 
When  round  her  helpless  whelps  the  hunters  press, 
Whirled  round  his  head  his  mighty  brass-bound  spear, 
That,  flying,  smote  the  Prince  beneath  the  ear, 
As  Areas'  arrow  sunk  into  his  side. 
Then  falling,  scarce  he  met  the  rushing  tide, 
Ere  Argo's  mighty  prow  had  thrust  apart 
The  huddled  oars,  and  through  the  fair  ship's  heart 
Had  thrust  her  iron  beak,  then  the  green  wave 
Rushed  in  as  rush  the  waters  through  a  cave 
That  tunnels  half  a  sea-girt  lonely  rock. 
Then  drawing  swiftly  backward  from  the  shock, 
And  heeding  not  the  cries  of  fear  and  woe, 
They  left  the  waters  dealing  with  their  foe ; 
Thru  at  the  following  ship  threw  back  a  shout, 
And  seaward  o'er  the  bar  drave  Argo  out. 

Then  joyful  felt  all  men  as  now  at  last 
From  hill  to  green  hill  of  the  sea  they  passed  ; 


OF  JASON.  143 

But  chiefly  joyed  Medea,  as  now  grew 

The  Colchian  hills  behind  them  faint  and  blue, 

And  like  a  white  speck  showed  the  following  ship. 

There  'neath  the  canopy,  lip  pressed  to  lip, 

They  sat  and  told  their  love,  till  scarce  he  thought 

What  precious  burden  back  to  Greece  he  brought 

Besides  the  maid,  nor  for  his  kingdom  cared, 

As  on  her  beauty  with  wet  eyes  he  stared, 

And  heard  her  sweet  voice  soft  as  in  a  dream, 

When  all  seems  gained,  and  trouble  dead  does  seem, 

And  on  his  face  her  red  lips  he  could  feel, 

And  round  her  painting  side  his  fingers  steal. 

So  passed  this  day,  and  she  no  less  forgot 
That  wreck  upon  the  bar,  the  evil  spot, 
Red  with  a  brother's  blood,  where  long  was  stayed 
The  wrathful  king  as  from  the  stream  he  weighed 
The  bleeding  body  of  his  well-loved  son. 

Lo  in  such  wise  their  journey  was  begun, 
And  so  began  short  love  and  long  decay, 
Sorrow  that  bides  and  joy  that  fleets  away. 


BOOK     X. 

NIGHT  came,  but  still  on  by  the  stars  they  sailed 
Before  the  wind,  till  at  the  dawn  it  failed, 
And  faded  soon  the  sunrise  pure  away, 
Leaving  the  heavens  colourless  and  grey, 
And  dull  and  lightless  the  decreasing  swell 
About  the  watery  ways  now  rose  and  fell, 
And  Lynceus,  looking  back,  no  more  beheld 
The  galley  that  so  long  the  chase  had  held. 
Then  were  all  glad,  and  toiled  on  at  the  oar, 
When  now  the  drooping  soils  would  help  no  more. 


144  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  soon  before  their  way  it  seemed  as  though 
A  curtain  hung  they  needs  must  journey  through, 
A  low  black  mist  so  brooded  o'er  the  sea. 
Then  did  they  hold  their  hands,  but  presently, 
Moving  to  meet  them,  did  it  hide  from  sight 
The  dog-vane  and  the  maintop  gilded  bright, 
Yea  in  heart-chilling  waves  it  so  enwound 
The  seafarers,  that  each  man  gazed  around 
And  saw  but  shadows  where  his  fellows  were. 
So  with  the  windless  swell  did  Argo  fare 
Two  days  with  furled  sails  purposeless  and  blind, 
And  bearing  heavy  hearts ;  the  third,  the  wind 
Sprung  up  at  daybreak,  and  straight  drove  away 
That  hideous  mist,  that  after  sunrise  lay 
A  heavy  purple  bank  down  in  the  west. 

Then  by  the  sun  his  way  Erginus  guessed, 
For  on  no  side  could  they  see  any  land ; 
But  as  upon  the  helm  he  set  his  hand, 
Such  mighty  light  blazed  out  upon  the  prow, 
That  faint  and  yellow  did  the  sunlight  show 
Beside  it,  and  amidst  it  they  beheld 
The  figure  that  ere  now  their  hands  had  held 
Anigh  the  Mysian  shore  ;  and  now  it  said  :  — 

"  0  heroes,  wherefore  haste  ye  to  be  dead  ? 
Behold,  while  through  the  heart  of  yonder  fog 
I,  Argo,  drifted  as  an  unsteered  log, 
^Eetes  passed  us  going  towards  the  straits, 
And  now  is  lying  ready  by  the  gates ; 
Nor  with  one  ship  alone,  but  with  ten  keels, 
liaised  from  his  subject  kings  and  commonweals, 
Abides  your  coming,  hoping  soon  to  see 
Your  bodies  on  the  shore  lie  wretchedly, 
While  to  the  Gods  he  offers  bulls  and  sheep  ; 
But  your  fair  helper,  and  your  joy  will  keep, 
That  she  in  ^Ea  unavenged  may  burn. 


OF   JASON.  145 

"But  now  the  Gods,  taking  your  swift  return 
Away  from  you,  yet  will  not  let  you  die; 
But  bid  you,  taking  heart,  turn  presently 
Unto  the  northern  shore  of  this  ill  sea ; 
There  by  a  mighty  river  shall  ye  be, 
Along  whose  sides  dwell  the  Sarmatian  folk, 
Knowing  no  arts,  untaught  to  bear  the  yoke 
Of  equal  laws ;  into  this  river's  mouth 
Straight  must  ye  enter,  and  forget  the  south, 
And  many  unknown  lands  and  unknown  seas, 
And  deadly  forests,  vocal  with  no  breeze, 
Shall  ye  go  wandering  through,  but  long  time  past) 
Unto  the  seas  ye  know  shall  come  at  last, 
And  passing  by  the  western  garden  fair 
Toward  the  Italian  shore,  shall  ye  find  there 
Circe  the  wise,  the  wonder  of  all  lands, 
Thy  father's  sister,  lady,  at  whose  hands 
Of  late-wrought  guilt  shall  ye  be  purified. 

"And  so,  by  many  troubles  being  tried, 
Unto  lolchos  shall  ye  all  come  back 
Except  some  few  j  nor  there  find  any  lack 
Of  much-desired  wealth  and  babbling  praise, 
And  so  each  man  depart  unto  such  days 
As  the  fates  grant  him,  be  they  good  or  ill, 
With  death  at  last  according  to  their  will." 

With  these  last  words  she  vanished  quite  away, 
And  these,  left  floating  on  that  dawn  of  day, 
Felt  severed  utterly  from  hoped-for  things ; 
Like  some  caged  eagle  that,  with  fluttering  wings, 
Beats  at  his  bars,  beholding  far  away 
His  windy  eyrie  up  the  mountain  grey. 
—  A  while  ago,  and  every  man  nigh  saw 
The  long  white  walls  rise  sunny  without  flaw 
From  out  the  curled  white  edges  of  the  sea ; 
Yea,  almost  felt  as  if  they  well  might  be 
In  fair  lolchos  that  same  afternoon. 


146  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

And  now  how  many  and  many  a  glittering  moon 
Must  fill  her  horns  up,  while  their  lives  were  spent 
In  unknown  lands  and  helpless  dreariment ! 

But  as  his  fellows,  speechless  and  amazed, 
Upon  the  weary  sea  so  stood  and  gazed, 
Spake  Jason  to  them  :   "  Heroes,  tell  me  where 
Your  hearts  are  gone,  since  helpless  thus  ye  stare 
On  that  which  helpeth  not  ?  in  no  such  wise 
A  while  ago,  before  ^Eetes'  eyes 
Ye  smote  the  Colchian  ship ;  with  other  heart 
Ye  drave  the  dark  blue  dashers  far  apart ; 
No  eyes  I  saw  like  these  upon  the  day, 
When  with  the  Colchian  spears  on  every  way, 
Unto  Mars'  acre  on  a  doubtful  quest 
We  passed,  and  dared  the  worst  to  get  the  best. 

"  What  will  ye  ?     Is  it  then  so  hard  a  thing 
That  we,  through  many  countries  wandering, 
Shall  see  unheard-of  things,  nor  fail  to  come, 
When  yet  our  blood  is  warm,  back  to  our  home  ? 
Be  merry,  think  upon  the  lives  of  men, 
And  with  what  troubles  threescore  years  and  ten 
Are  crowded  oft,  yea,  even  unto  him 
Who  sits  at  home,  nor  fears  for  life  and  limb, 
But  trembles  the  base  slave  unto  a  slave ; 
Or  holding  trifles  he  is  fain  to  save, 
Sits  pleasureless  and  wearing  out  his  life, 
Or  with  vain  words  wages  disgraceful  strife 
That  leads  nowhither,  till  forgotten  death 
Seizes  the  babbler,  choking  out  his  breath. 

"  But  ye  —  forget  all  —  get  ye  to  the  oar, 
And  steer  rejoicing  to  the  northern  shore, 
Since  we  shall  win  such  glory  and  renown, 
That,  coming  home  again  to  our  fair  town, 
Those  left  behind  shall  count  us  all  for  lords, 
And  tremble,  gazing  at  our  sheathed  swords. 


OF  JASON.  147 

Fair  is  the  wind,  the  sunny  dawn  is  clear, 
Nor  are  we  bound  for  Pluto's  kingdom  drear, 
But  for  fair  forests,  plentiful  of  beasts, 
Where,  innocent  of  craft,  with  joyous  feasts, 
The  wise  folk  live  as  in  the  golden  age, 
Not  reddening  spears  and  swords  in  useless  rage ; 
Nor  need  they  houses,  but  in  fair-wrought  cave 
Their  bodies  from  the  winter's  cold  they  save  ; 
Nor  labour  they  at  all,  or  weave,  or  till, 
For  everything  the  kind  land  bears  at  will. 
Doubt  not  at  all  that  they  will  welcome  us 
As  very  Gods,  with  all  things  plenteous." 

So  spake  he,  knowing  nought  of  that  same  land ; 
Natheless,  they  noting  him  as  he  did  stand 
Beside  Erginus,  with  unclouded  face, 
Took  heart  again,  and  to  the  oars  apace 
They  gat  and  toiled,  forgetting  half  the  word 
That  from  great  Argo's  sprite  ere  now  they  heard, 
Nor  thinking  of  the  ills  that  they  might  meet, 
But  of  the  day  when  their  returning  feet 
Should  bear  them,  full  of  knowledge,  wealth,  and  fame, 
Up  to  the  royal  hall  wherefrom  they  came. 

But  Jason  in  his  heart  thought :   "  Now,  indeed, 
Of  home  and  fame  full  little  is  my  need, 
The  days  will  change,  and  time  will  bring  a  day 
When  through  my  beard  are  sprinkled  locks  of  grey, 
And  love  no  more  shall  be  enough  for  me, 
And  no  fair  woman  much  delight  shall  be ; 
But  little  do  we  want  when  we  are  young, 
The  bended  knee  and  nattering  false  tongue, 
Which  we,  grown  old,  and  drained  of  half  our  fire, 
Knowing  them  false,  do  yet  so  much  desire." 

But  for  his  love,  she,  set  quite  free  from  fear 
Of  frightful  death,  held  life  itself  so  dear, 
That  where  she  went  she  scarcely  heeded  yet, 


148  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

For  still  she  seemed  to  see  the  black  pile  set 
For  her  undoing  by  the  temple-gate  ; 
And  seemed  to  see  the  thronging  people  wait 
For  her,  who  there  to  make  the  tragedy 
Alone  was  wanting :  then  she  saw  anigh 
His  face,  and  with  her  fingers  felt  him  toy, 
And  therewithal  trembled  for  very  joy, 
And  set  aside  for  that  time  all  her  care, 
So  sweet  was  love,  and  life  so  blithe  and  fair. 

Now  northward  Argo  steered  for  two  days  more, 
Until  at  last  they  came  in  sight  of  shore, 
And  creeping  on,  they  found  a  river-mouth, 
That  a  long  spit  of  land  fenced  from  the  south, 
And  turned  due  west :  and  now,  at  ebb  full  strong, 
Turbid  and  yellow  rolled  its  stream  along, 
That  scarce  could  Argo  stem  it ;  wherefore  they, 
It  being  but  early,  anchored  till  mid-day, 
And  as  they  waited,  saw  an  eddy  rise 
Where  sea  joined  river,  and  before  their  eyes 
The  battle  of  the  waters  did  begin. 
So,  seeing  the  mighty  ocean  best  therein, 
Weighing  their  anchor,  they  made  haste  to  man 
Both  oars  and  sails,  and  therewith  plying,  ran 
Wkh  the  first  wave  of  the  great  conquering  flood 
Far  up  the  stream,  on  whose  banks  forests  stood, 
Darkening  the  swirling  water  on  each  side. 

And  now  between  them  swiftly  did  they  glide, 
And  now  no  more  they  smelt  the  fresh  salt  sea, 
Or  heard  the  steady  wind  pipe  boisterously 
Through  the  strained  rigging,  neither  with  their  feet 
Set  wide,  the  pitching  of  their  ship  to  meet, 
Went  to  and  fro ;  for  all  was  quiet  now 
But  gurgling  of  the  stream  beside  the  prow, 
And  flapping  of  the  well-nigh  useless  sail, 
And  from  the  black  woods  some  faint  dismal  wail, 
Whether  of  man  or  beast  they  knew  not  well. 


OF  JASON.  149 

Then  o'er  their  hearts  a  melancholy  fell, 
And  they  began  to  think  they  might  forget 
The  quest  whereon  their  hearts  had  once  been  set, 
Now  half  accomplished,  and  all  wealth  and  fame, 
All  memory  of  the  land  wherefrom  they  came, 
Their  very  names,  indeed,  to  wander  on, 
Unseen,  unheard  of,  till  their  lives  were  done. 

In  such-like  thoughts  they  anchored  for  the  night, 
Nor  slept  they  much,  but  wishing  for  daylight, 
About  the  deck  they  paced,  or  sat  them  down 
In  longing  thought  of  some  fair  merchant-town. 

So  sadly  passed  the  weary  night  away, 
That,  dreary,  yet  was  noisier  than  the  day ; 
For  all  about  them  evil  beasts  'gan  stir 
At  nightfall,  and  great  soft-winged  bats  to  whirr 
About  their  raiment  and  their  armour  bright. 
And  when  the  moon  rose,  and  her  crescent  white 
Made  the  woods  blacker,  then  from  either  shore 
They  heard  the  thundering  of  the  lion's  roar, 
Now  coming  nigher,  dying  now  away  ; 
And  once  or  twice,  as  in  the  stream  they  lay 
A  spear-cast  from  the  shore,  could  they  behold 
The  yellow  beast  stalk  forth,  and,  stars  and  bold, 
Stand  in  the  moonlight  on  the  muddy  beach. 
Then,  though  they  doubted  not  their  shafts  could  reach 
His  kingly  heart,  they  held  their  hands,  for  here 
All  seemed  as  in  a  dream,  where  deadly  fear 
Is  mingled  with  the  most  familiar  thing  ; 
And  in  the  cup  we  see  the  serpent's  sting, 
And  common  speech  we  answer  with  a  scream. 
Moreover,  sounds  they  heard  they  well  might  deem 
To  be  men's  voices ;  but  whatso  they  were, 
Unto  the  river  side  they  drew  not  near, 
Nor  yet  of  aught  like  man  did  they  have  sight. 

So  dawned  the  day  ;  but  like  another  night 
Unto  their  wearied  eyes  it  seemed  to  be, 

14 


150  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Amid  that  solitude,  whore  tree  joined  tree 
For  ever,  as  it  seemed  ;  and  natheless,  they 
Ran  out  the  oars  and  gat  them  on  their  way 
Against  the  ebb,  and  little  help  the  flood 
Gave  them  that  day  ;  but  yet  for  bad  or  good 
They  labonred  on,  though  still  with  less  intent, 
More  hopeless  past  the  changeless  woods  they  went. 

But  every  day,  more  and  more  sluggishly 
And  shorter  time,  the  water  from  the  sea 
Han  up,  and  failed  ere  eve  of  the  third  day, 
Though  slower  took  the  downward  stream  its  way, 
Grown  wide  and  dull,  and  here  and  there  the  wood 
Would  draw  away  and  leave  some  dismal  rood 
Of  quaggy  land  about  the  river's  edge, 
Where  'mid  the  oozes  and  decaying  sedge 
There  wallowed  ugly,  nameless,  dull-scaled  things. 

These  now  the  weary  company  of  kings, 
As  they  passed  by,  could  not  endure  to  see 
Unscathed  of  arrows,  turning  lazily 
Blue-gleaming  slimy  sides  up  in  the  sun, 
Whose  death  swift  Atalanta  fivst  begun. 
For  as  anigh  the  prow  she  chanced  to  stand, 
Unto  her  bow  did  she  set  foot  and  hand, 
And  strung  it,  and  therefrom  an  arrow  sent 
That  through  the  belly  of  a  monster  went, 
Legged  like  a  lizard,  maned  with  long  lank  hair. 
He,  screaming,  straight  arose  from  out  his  lair, 
With  many  another  of  his  kith  and  kin, 
And  swiftly  getting  to  the  water  thin, 
Made  for  the  ship  ;  and  though  upon  the  way 
Some  few  among  them  lost  the  light  of  day, 
Smit  by  Thcssalian  arrows,  yet  the  most 
The  narrow  strip  of  water  fairly  crossed, 
Arid  scaled  the  ship's  sides,  and  therewith  began 
A  fearful  battle  betwixt  worm  and  man. 


OF  JASON.  151 

Not  long  it  dured  ;  though  Ceneus  through  the  mail 
Was  bitten,  and  one  monster's  iron  tail 
Smote  down  Asterion,  whom  Eribotes 
Made  shift  to  save  ;  but  chiefly  amid  these 
She  who  had  been  the  first  to  raise  the  strife 
Was  hard  bested,  and  scarce  escaped  with  life. 

One  worm  'twixt  ship  and  shore  her  arrow  slew, 
But  ere  her  Amazonian  axe  she  drew, 
Another  monster  had  got  slimy  hold 
Of  her  slim  ankles,  and  cast  fold  on  fold 
About  her  legs,  and  binding  thigh  to  thigh, 
Wrapt  round  her  sides,  enfolding  mightily 
Her  foiled  right  hand,  then  raised  aloft  his  crest 
Against  her  unembraced  tender  breast ; 
But  she,  with  one  unharmed  hand  yet  left  free, 
Still  strove  to  ward  the  blow  but  giddily, 
Because  the  deadly  rings  still  tighter  grew 
About  her  heart ;  yet  as  she  fell,  there  flew 
A  feathered  javelin  swiftly  from  the  left, 
By  Areas  desperately  cast,  that  cleft 
The  monster's  head,  and  dulled  his  glittering  eyes. 

Then  the  glad  Minyae  with  joyous  cries 
Cleared  Argo's  decks  of  all  the  monstrous  things, 
As  from  the  maiden's  firnbs  the  slimy  rings 
Slacked  and  fell  off:  but  she,  so  saved  from  death, 
Sat  weary  by  the  mast,  and  drew  glad  breath, 
And  vowed  the  grey  and  deadly  thing  should  shine, 
Wrought  all  of  gold,  within  Diana's  shrine, 
In  woody  fair  Arcadia.     But  the  rest, 
When  they  with  poured-out  wine  the  Gods  had  blest, 
And  flayed  the  slain  worms,  gat  them  to  the  oar, 
And  'gainst  the  sluggish  stream  slid  past  the  shore. 

But  swifter  the  next  day  the  river  ran 
With  higher  banks,  and  now  the  woods  began 
To  be  of  trees  that  in  their  land  they  knew, 
And  into  clumps  of  close-set  beeches  grew, 


152  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  oak-trees  thinly  spread,  and  there-between 
Fair  upland  hillocks  well  beset  with  green  ; 
And  'neath  the  trees  great  herds  of  deer  and  neat, 
And  sheep,  and  swine,  fed  on  the  herbage  sweet, 
Seeming  all  wild  as  though  they  knew  not  man, 
For  quite  untented  here  and  there  they  ran, 
And  while  two  great  bucks  raised  the  armed  brow 
Each  against  each  (since  time  of  fight  was  now), 
About  them  would  the  swine  squeal,  and  the  sheep 
In  close-drawn  flock  their  faint  republic  keep, 
With  none  to  watch  :  nor  saw  they  fence  or  fold, 
Nor  any  husbandry  did  they  behold, 
But  the  last  men  their  wearied  eyes  had  seen 
Were  those  strong  swimmers  in  the  Phasis  green. 

So  seeing  now  these  beasts  in  such  plenty, 
It  seemed  good  unto  the  Minyse 
To  make  provision  thereof  for  their  need. 
So  drawing  Argo  up  through  sedge  and  reed, 
They  made  her  fast,  while  divers  took  the  land. 
Areas  the  hunter,  Idas  strong  of  hand, 
White  Atalanta,  wise  Eurytion, 
Far-seeing  Lynceus,  and  the  Sminthian's  son, 
Keen  Theseus,  with  Pirithous  his  mate, 
Clitius,  whose  swift  shaft  smote  as  Sure  as  fate, 
^Etalides,  the  runner  of  the  plain, 
Phocus,  whose  sling  was  seldom  whirled  in  vain, 
Cseneus  the  cragsman,  Periclimenes, 
And  Apheus,  haunter  of  the  close-set  trees. 

So  forth  these  set,  and  none  of  them  had  lack 
Of  spear  or  bow,  or  quiver  at  the  back, 
As  through  the  land  they  went  with  wary  mirth, 
For  they  rejoiced  once  more  to  feel  the  earth 
Beneath  their  feet,  while  on  their  heads  fell  down 
The  uncupped  acorn,  and  the  long  leaves  brown, 
For  on  that  land  the  sad  mid-autumn  lay, 
And  earlier  came  the  sunset  day  by  day. 


OF  JASON.  153 

But  now  unto  their  hunting  gave  they  heed, 
And  of  the  more  part  happy  was  the  speed, 
And  soon  to  Argo  did  they  turn  again, 
Laden  with  that  they  had  set  forth  to  gain, 
Of  deer  and  beasts  the  slaughtered  carcasses 
Upborne  on  interwoven  boughs  of  trees. 

With  whom  came  Theseus  not,  nor  Areas  came, 
Nor  yet  ^talides  (who  had  the  fame 
Next  Atalanta  among  all  the  rest 
For  swiftness,  she  being  easily  the  best). 
There  waiting  till  the  night,  yet  none  the  more 
Came  down  those  three  unto  the  river's  shore, 
Nor  through  the  night :  but  swift  .ZEtalides 
At  dawn  they  saw  come  running  through  the  trees, 
With  Areas  far  behind,  and  Theseus  slim 
The  last  of  all,  but  straining  every  limb 
To  be  their  equal :  empty-handed  they 
Came  back  to  Argo  on  that  dawn  of  day, 
And  on  being  asked,  a  short  tale  had  to  tell. 

Unto  their  part  to  chase  a  great  buck  fell, 
That  led  them  far,  and  he  at  last  being  lost, 
They  sat  them  down  with  nought  to  pay  the  cost 
Of  all  their  travail ;  so  being  set,  they  heard 
A  hubbub  of  strange  voices,  and  afeard 
Leapt  to  their  feet,  and  presently  they  saw 
Strange  folk,  both  men  and  women,  toward  them  draw, 
Who  spread  about  them  as  to  stop  their  flight 
On  all  hands  more  than  they  durst  lightly  tight. 

So  being  thus  trapped  they  fain  had  spoke  them  fair, 
But  knowing  not  their  tongue,  they  yet  had  care 
To  speak  with  smiles  as  though  they  feared  not  aught, 
Asking  for  food  by  signs,  which  soon  was  brought, 
No  flesh,  but  roots  and  nuts,  whereof  they  ate, 
And  so  by  signs  until  the  day  grew  late 
They  dealt  together,  making  clear  indeed 
Each  unto  each  but  little  of  their  need  ; 

14* 


154  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

At  last  of  their  departure  were  they  fain, 
But,  being  stayed,  they  durst  not  strive  in  vain 
For  fear  of  worse  ;  but  now,  the  night  being  come, 
The  wild  folk  seemed  to  think  that  place  their  home 
Just  as  another,  and  there  gat  to  sleep, 
Nor  yet  upon  the  Greeks  a  watch  did  keep 
To  stop  their  going ;  "So,"  said  Areas,  "  we, 
An  hour  after  midnight,  warily 
Stole  from  among  them,  neither  gave  they  chase, 
Being  still  asleep,  like  beasts,  in  that  same  place  ; 
And  for  their  semblance,  neither  were  they  clad, 
Nor  in  their  hands  a  spear  or  sword  they  had, 
Or  any  brass  or  iron,  but  long  slings, 
And  scrips  of  stones,  and  ugly  stone-set  things 
Most  like  to  knives,  and  clubs  of  heavy  wood  ; 
Soft-voiced  they  were,  and  gentle  of  their  mood, 
And  goodly  made  as  such  wild  folk  may  be, 
But  tanned  with  sun  and  wind  ;  there  did  we  see 
Old  men  and  young,  and  women  old  and  young, 
With  many  children  scattered  there  among, 
All  naked,  and  with  unshorn  yellow  hair 
Blowing  about ;  and  sooth  we  deem  they  were 
Houseless  and  lawless,  without  town  or  king, 
Knowing  no  Gods,  and  lacking  everything." 

So  said  he,  but  Medea  spoke,  and  said  :  — 
"  0  heroes,  surely  by  all  likelihead 
These  are  the  folk  of  whom  I  erst  heard  tell 
In'^Ea,  where  to  me  it  oft  befell 
To  speak  with  many  men  from  many  lands, 
Long  ere  ye  crossed  the  Phasis'  yellow  sands. 

"  Of  these  I  learned  more  tongues  of  speaking  men 
Than  ye  might  deem  men  spoke,  who  told  me  then 
Of  such  as  these,  that  ye  have  seen  but  now. 
And  yet  indeed  some  Gods  these  folk  do  know, 
The  Sun,  the  Moon,  the  mother  of  the  earth, 
And  more  perchance,  and  days  they  have  of  mirth 


OF  JASON.  155 

When  these  they  honour ;  yea,  and  unto  these 
Within  their  temples,  groves  of  ancient  trees, 
Clad  but  in  leaves,  and  crowned  in  solemn  wise, 
They  offer  strangers  up  in  sacrifice, 
Which  was  your  doom  had  not  the  Gods  been  kind, 
Who  for  your  bodies  other  graves  will  find." 

But  when  they  heard  her,  glad  they  were  indeed 
That  they  from  such  a  bondage  had  been  freed. 
But,  day  being  fully  come,  they  loosed  from  shore, 
And  'gainst  the  stream  all  bent  unto  the  oar. 
All  day  they  toiled,  and  every  mile  of  way 
Still  swifter  grew  the  stream,  so  on  that  day 
Few  leagues  they  made ;  and  still  the  banks  were  fair, 
But  rising  into  scarped  cliffs  here  and  there, 
Where  screamed  the  great  ger-falcon  as  they  passed, 
And  whence  the  sooty  swifts  about  the  mast 
Went  sweeping,  with  shrill  cries  at  that  new  sight. 

Nought  napped  that  day  worth  record,  but  at  night, 
When  they  were  moored,  and  sound  of  splashing  oars 
Had  ceased,  and  stiller  grew  the  upland  shores, 
Another  sound  they  heard  besides  the  stream 
That  gurgled  past  them,  that  to  them  did  seem 
Like  sound  of  feet  of  men  who  pass  to  war, 
Rising  and  falling  as  the  wind  from  far 
Would  bear  it  on  or  drop  it  in  the  dark. 
So,  while  with  strained  ears  they  stood  to  hark 
The  murmur,  as  folk  use,  scarce  sure  they  heard 
That  which  already  inward  fear  had  stirred, 
Erginus  spoke  :  "  0  heroes,  fear  ye  nought, 
This  is  not  death,  though  ye  to  toil  are  brought ; 
This  noise  is  but  the  river  as  it  falls 
Over  its  mountainous  and  iron  walls, 
Which,  being  passed,  both  calm  and  deep  will  be 
The  pent-up  stream,  and  Argo  easily 
Will  stem  it ;  but  or  ere  we  come  thereto, 


156  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Needs  must  we  heave  her  up  and  make  her  go 
Over  the  hard  earth,  till  the  falls  are  past. 
Eat  therefore  now,  and  sleep,  that  ye  may  last 
Through  this  and  other  toils,  and  so  may  come 
Through  many  labours,  back  unto  your  home." 
So,  landing,  many  a  pine-torch  did  they  light, 
And  made  the  dusky  evening  strange  and  bright, 
And  there  a  mighty  fire  did  they  pile, 
And  set  the  flesh  thereto,  and  in  a  while, 
When  all  was  ready,  did  they  offer  up 
That  \\hich  the  Gods  claimed,  pouring  out  a  cup 
Of  red  wine  to  them  from  a  new-pierced  skin. 
Then  in  that  lonely  land  did  they  begin 
Their  feast,  and  first  the  flesh  to  Jason  gave, 
And  next  to  her  who  all  their  souls  did  save, 
Far  up  the  Phasis  on  that  other  day, 
And  then  unto  the  swift  Arcadian  May 
The  guarded  treasure  of  the  trim-shod  queen. 
Then  to  the  godlike  singer,  set  between 
The  twin  Laconian  stars,  and  then  to  these ; 
And  then  to  Areas,  haunter  of  the  trees, 
Theseus,  Pirithous,  Erginus  true, 
The  North-wind's  sons,  the  cleavers  of  the  blue  ; 
And  all  the  kings  being  satisfied  in  turn, 
With  vain  desires  'gan  their  hearts  to  burn, 
So  stirred  within  them  wine  and  changing  speech. 

But  unto  him  his  harp  did  Orpheus  reach, 
And  smote  the  strings,  and  through  the  ancient  trees 
Hang  the  heart-piercing  honeyed  melodies  :  — 

"Alas  !  for  Saturn's  days  of  gold, 
Before  the  mountain  men  were  bold 
To  dig  up  iron  from  the  earth 
Wherewith  to  slaughter  health  and  mirth, 
And  bury  hope  far  underground. 


OF  JASON.  157 

When  all  men  needed  did  abound 
In  every  land ;  nor  must  they  toil, 
Nor  wear  their  lives  in  strife  to  foil 
Each  other's  hands,  for  all  was  good, 
And  no  man  knew  the  sight  of  blood. 

"  With  all  the  world  man  had  no  strife, 
No  element  against  his  life 
Was  sworn  and  bitter  ;  on  the  sea, 
Dry-shod,  could  all  walk  easily  ; 
No  fire  there  was  but  what  made  day, 
Or  hidden  in  the  mountains  grey ; 
No  pestilence,  no  lightning  flash, 
No  over-mastering  wind,  to  dash 
The  roof  upon  some  trembling  head. 

"  Then  the  year  changed,  but  ne'er  was  dead, 
Nor  was  the  autumn-tide  more  sad 
Than  very  spring ;  and  all  unclad 
Folk  went  upon  the  harmless  snow, 
For  not  yet  did  midwinter  know 
The  biting  frost  and  icy  wind, 
The  very  east  was  soft  and  kind. 

"  And  on  the  crown  of  July  days, 
All  heedless  of  the  mid-day  blaze, 
Unshaded  by  the  rosy  bowers, 
Unscorched  beside  the  tulip  flowers, 
The  snow-white  naked  girl  might  stand ; 
Or  fearless  thrust  her  tender  hand 
Amidst  the  thornless  rose-bushes. 

"  Then,  'mid  the  twilight  of  the  trees 
None  feared  the  yellow  beast  to  meet ; 
Smiling  to  feel  their  languid  feet 
Licked  by  the  serpent's  forked  tongue. 
For  then  no  clattering  horn  had  rung 
Through  those  green  glades,  or  made  afraid 
The  timid  dwellers  in  the  shade. 
No  lust  of  strength  nor  fear  of  death 


158  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Had  driven  men,  with  shortened  breath, 
The  stag's  wide-open  eyes  to  watch  ; 
No  shafts  to  slay,  no  nets  to  catch, 
Were  yet ;  unyoked  the  neat  might  play 
On  untilled  meads,  and  mountains  grey, 
Unshorn,  the  silly  sheep  might  rove. 

"  Nor  knew  that  world  consuming  love, 
Mother  of  hate,  or  envy  cold, 
Or  rage  for  fame,  or  thirst  for  gold, 
Or  longing  for  the  ways  untried, 
That,  ravening  and  unsatisfied, 
Draw  shortened  lives  of  men  to  Hell. 

"  Alas  !  what  profit  now  to  tell 
The  long  unweary  lives  of  men 
Of  past  days  —  threescore  years  and  ten, 
Unbent,  un wrinkled,  beautiful, 
Regarding  not  death's  flower-crowned  skull, 
But  with  some  damsel  intertwined 
In  such  love  as  leaves  hope  behind. 

"  Alas,  the  vanished  days  of  bliss  ! 
Will  no  God  send  some  dream  of  this, 
That  we  may  know  what  it  has  been  V 

"  Oh,  thou,  the  chapleted  with  green, 
Thou  purpled-stained,  but  not  with  blood, 
Who  on  the  edge  of  some  cool  wood 
Forgetest  the  grim  Indian  plain, 
And  all  the  strife  and  all  the  pain, 
While  in  thy  sight  the  must  foams  out, 
And  maid  and  man,  with  cry  arid  shout, 
Toil  while  thou  laughest,  think  of  us, 
And  drive  away  these  piteous, 
Formless  and  wailing  thoughts,  that  press 
About  our  hour  of  happiness. 

"  Ly;iMis,  King  !  by  thee  alone 
To  song  may  change  our  tuneless  moan, 


OF  JASON.  159 

The  murmur  of  the  bitter  sea 

To  ancient  tales  be  changed  by  thee. 

By  thee  the  unnamed  smouldering  fire 

Within  our  hearts  turns  to  desire 

Sweet,  amorous,  half  satisfied ; 

Through  thee  the  doubtful  years  untried 

Seem  fair  to  us  and  fortunate, 

In  spite  of  death,  in  spite  of  fate." 

He  ceased,  and  bent  his  head  above  the  wine  ; 
Then,  as  he  raised  his  eyes,  they  saw  them  shine 
In  the  red  torchlight  with  unwilling  tears, 
And  their  hearts  too,  with  thoughts  of  vanished  years, 
Were  pensive,  as  at  ending  of  his  song 
They  heard  the  bubbling  river  speed  along, 
Nor  did  they  miss  that  doubtful  noise  to  hear 
The  rising  night-wind  through  the  branches  bear, 
Till  sleep  fell  on  them,  and  the  watch  alone 
Waked  in  that  place,  and  heard  the  distant  moan 
Grow  louder  as  the  dead  night  stiller  grew, 
And  fuller  of  all  fear,  till  daylight  drew 
A  faint  wan  streak  between  the  thinner  trees, 
And  in  their  yellowing  foliage  the  breeze 
Made  a  new  sound,  that  through  their  waking  dream 
Like  to  the  surging  sea  well-nigh  did  seem. 

But  the  full  day  being  come,  all  men  awake, 
Fresh  hold  upon  the  oars  began  to  take, 
Stemming  the  stream,  that  now  at  every  mile 
Swifter  and  shallower  ran,  and  in  a  while 
Above  all  noises  did  they  hear  that  roar, 
And  saw  the  floating  foam  borne  past  the  shore  : 
So  but  ten  leagues  they  made  upon  that  day ; 
And  on  the  morrow,  going  on  their  way, 
They  went  not  far,  for  underneath  their  keel 
Some  once  or  twice  the  hard  rock  did  they  feel, 


160  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  looking  on  ahead,  the  stream  could  see 

White  with  the  rapids  ;  therefore  warily 

Some  mile  or  two  they  went  at  a  slow  pace, 

And  stayed  their  course  where  they  beheld  a  place 

Soft-sloping  to  the  river  ;  and  there  all, 

Half  deafened  by  the  noises  of  the  fall 

And  bickering  rapids,  left  the  ashen  oar, 

And  spreading  over  the  well-wooded  shore 

Cut  rollers,  laying  on  full  many  a  stroke, 

And  made  a  capstan  of  a  mighty  oak, 

And  so  drew  Argo  up,  with  hale  and  how, 

On  to  the  grass,  turned  half  to  mire  now. 

Thence  did  they  toil  their  best,  in  drawing  her 
Beyond  the  falls,  whereto  being  come  anear, 
They  trembled  when  they  saw  them,  for  from  sight 
The  rocks  were  hidden  by  the  spray-clouds  white, 
Cold,  wretched,  chilling,  and  the  mighty  sound 
Their  heavy-laden  hearts  did  sore  confound  ; 
For  parted  from  all  men  they  seemed,  and  far 
From  all  the  world,  shut  out  by  that  great  bar. 

Moreover,  when  with  toil  and  pain,  at  last 
Unto  the  torrent's  head  they  now  had  passed, 
They  sent  forth  swift  JEtalides  to  see 
What  further  up  the  river  there  might  be. 
Who  going  twenty  leagues,  another  fall 
Found,  with  great  cliffs  on  each  side,  like  a  wall ; 
But,  'twixt  the  two,  another  unbarred  stream 
Joined  the  main  river  ;  therefore  did  they  deem, 
When  this  they  heard,  that  they  perforce  must  try 
This  smoother  branch  ;  so  somewhat  heavily 
Argo  they  launched  again,  and  gat  them  forth 
Still  on  toward  the  winter  and  the  north. 


OF  JASON.  161 


BOOK    XI. 

NOW  might  the  Minyte  hoist  up  to  the  breeze 
Their  well-wrought  sail,  for  barren  of  all  trees 
The  banks  were  now  become,  not  rising  high 
Above  the  deep  green  stream  that  sluggishly 
Strove  with  the  strenuous  Argo's  cleaving  stem. 

So  after  all  their  toil  was  rest  to  them 
A  little  while,  and  on  the  deck  they  sat, 
Not  wholly  sad,  and  talked  of  this  and  that, 
Or  watched  the  restless  fishes  turn  and  wind, 
Or  the  slim  kestrel  hanging  in  the  wind, 
Or  the  wild  cattle  scouring  here  and  there 
About  the  plain  ;  for  in  a  plain  they  were, 
Edged  round  with  hills,  with  quaggy  brooks  cleft  through, 
That  'mid  their  sedges  toward  the  river  drew, 
And  harboured  noisome  things,  and  death  to  man. 
But  looking  up  stream,  the  green  river  ran 
Unto  their  eyes,  from  out  the  mountains  high, 
For  'twixt  no  pass  could  they  behold  the  sky, 
Though  at  the  mountain's  foot,  far  through  the  plain, 
They  saw  the  wandering  river  shine  again, 
Then  vanish  wholly,  therefore  through  their  ease, 
With  fear  did  they  the  jealous  (rods  appease. 

Natheless,  for  two  days  did  they  speed  along, 
Not  toiling  aught,  and  cheered  with  tale  and  song, 
But  the  third  noonday,  bringing  them  anear 
The  mountains,  turned  to  certain  grief  their  fear, 
For  now  they  saw  the  stream,  grown  swift  but  deep, 
Come  from  a  cavern  in  the  mountain  steep, 
Nor  would  it  help  them  aught  upon  that  tide 
To  heave  the  swift  ship  out  on  either  side, 
For  all  that  plain  the  mountain  ridge  bestrode, 

15 


1 62  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  scarcely  could  a  horseman  find  a  road 
Through  any  pass  into  the  farther  land. 

Then  'mid  the  downcast  men  did  Jason  stand, 
And  lifting  up  his  voice,  said  :   "  Minyse, 
Why  right  and  left  upon  this  plain  look  ye, 
Where  dwell  but  beasts  or  beast-like  men  alone? 
Look  rather  to  that  heap  of  rugged  stone, 
Pierced  with  the  road  that  leadeth  to  the  north. 
Yea,  if  from  very  hell  this  stream  runs  forth, 
Let  us  go  thither,  bearing  in  our  hands 
This  golden,  hard-won  marvel  of  all  lands. 
Yet,  since  not  death  it  bears,  but  living  things, 
Shall  we  not  reach  thereby  the  sea  that  rings 
The  whole  world  round,  and  so  make  shift  to  reach 
Sunny  Euboea,  and  fair  Argo  beach 
Before  lolchos,  having  lost  no  whit 
Of  all  our  gains  ?     Or  else  here  must  we  sit 
Till  hunger  slays  us  on  some  evil  day, 
Or  wander  till  our  raiment  falls  away 
From  off  our  bodies,  and  we,  too,  become 
Like  those  ye  saw,  not  knowing  any  home, 
Voiceless,  desiring  nought  but  daily  food, 
And  seeking  that  like  beasts  within  the  wood, 
Each  for  himself.     And  all  our  glory  gone, 
Our  names  but  left  upon  some  carven  stone 
In  Greece,  still  growing  fainter  day  by  day. 
And  this  work  wrought  within  the  sunny  bay, 
Nor  yet  without  the  help  of  Gods,  shall  lie 
A  wonder  to  the  wild  beasts  passing  by, 
While  on  her  fallen  masts  the  sedge-birds  sing, 
Unseen  of  men,  a  clean  forgotten  thing." 

So  spake  he,  setting  courage  in  their  hearts 
To  try  the  unknown  dark,  and  to  their  parts 
All  gat  them  swiftly,  and  they  struck  the  mast, 
And  deftly  steered,  from  out  the  sunlight  passed 
Into  the  cold,  bat-haunted  cavern  low, 


OF   JASON.  163 

And  thrusting  out  with  poles,  made  shift  to  go 
Against  the  stream,  that  with  a  hollow  sound 
Smote  Argo's  stem.     Then  Jason,  looking  round, 
Trembled  himself,  for  now,  indeed,  he  thought, 
Though  to  the  toiling  heroes  he  said  nought :  — 
"What  do  we,  if  this  cavern  narrows  now, 
Or  over  falls  these  burrowing  waters  flow, 
And  drive  us  back  again  into  the  sun, 
Cursing  the  day  this  quest  was  first  begun, 
Or  somewhat  traps  us  here,  as  well  it  may, 
And  ends  us  all,  far  from  the  light  of  day." 

Therewith  he  bade  them  light  the  torches  up, 
And  to  the  mountain  Gods  to  pour  a  cup, 
And  one  unto  the  river  Gods,  and  pray 
That  they  might  come  into  the  light  of  day, 
When  they  had  pierced  the  mountain  through  and  through. 
So  from  the  torches  trains  of  sparkles  flew, 
And  strangely  flashed  their  arms  in  that  dark  place, 
And  white  and  haggard  showed  each  anxious  face 
Against  those  dripping  walls  of  unknown  stone. 

But  now  in  Jason's  hand  the  cup  outshone, 
Full  of  red  wine,  pressed  by  the  Grecian  sea, 
And  lifting  high  his  hand,  he  cried  :  "  0  ye, 
Both  Gods  and  nymphs  who  in  this  wild  land  dwell, 
In  hill  or  river,  henceforth  may  ye  tell 
How  through  your  midst  have  passed  the  Minyae  ; 
And  if,  ye  helping,  the  cold  northern  sea 
We  safely  reach,  and  our  desired  home, 
Thither  the  fame  and  fear  of  you  shall  come, 
And  there  a  golden-pillared  house  shall  stand 
Unto  our  helpers  in  this  savage  land. 
Nor  when  we  reach  the  other  side  of  this 
Grim  cavern,  due  observance  shall  ye  miss, 
For  whatso  on  the  teeming  plain  we  snare, 
Slain  with  due  rites  shall  smoke  before  you  there." 

So  spake  he,  and  twice  poured  the  fragrant  wine ; 


1 64  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  they,  well-pleased  to  have  the  gift  divine, 
And  noting  well  his  promises,  took  heed 
Unto  his  prayers,  and  gave  the  heroes  speed. 
Then  Jason  straightway  bade  more  torches  light, 
And  Argo  pushed  along,  flared  through  the  night 
Of  the  dank  cavern,  and  the  dull  place  rang 
With  Grecian  names,  as  loud  the  heroes  sang, 
For  hope  had  come  into  their  hearts  at  last. 

So  through  the  winding  cave  three  days  they  passed. 
But  on  the  fourth  day  Lynceus  gave  a  cry, 
Smiting  his  palms  together,  who  could  spy, 
Far  off,  a  little  white  speck  through  the  dark, 
As  when  the  'lated  traveller  sees  the  spark 
Of  some  fair-lighted  homestead  glitter  bright. 
But  soon  to  all  men's  eyes  the  joyous  sight 
Showed  clear,  and  with  redoubled  force  they  pushed 
Swift  Argo  forth,  who  through  the  water  rushed 
As  though  she  longed  for  daylight  too  and  air. 
And  so  within  an  hour  they  brought  her  there, 
And  on  the  outer  world  the  sun  shone  high, 
For  it  was  noon  ;  so  mooring  presently, 
On  the  green  earth  they  clean  forgot  their  pain, 
For  joy  to  feel  the  sweet  soft  grass  again, 
And  see  the  fair  things  of  the  world,  and  feel 
The  joyous  sunlight  that  the  sick  can  heal, 
And  soft  tormenting  of  the  western  wind. 

And  there  for  joy  about  there  heads  they  twined 
The  yellow  autumn  flowers  of  the  field, 
And  of  untimely  sorrow  were  they  healed 
By  godlike  conquering  wine  ;  nor  yet  forgot 
Their  promise  to  the  Gods,  but  on  that  spot, 
Of  turf  and  stones  they  built  up  altars  twain, 
And  sent  the  hunters  forth,  and  not  in  vain ; 
For  Atalanta,  swifter  than  a  man, 
Areas,  and  mighty  Theseus,  overran 
A  white  high-crested  bull,  and  tough  cords  threw 


OF   JASON.  165 

About  his  horns,  and  so  by  main  force  drew 
The  great  beast  to  the  altars,  where  the  knife 
Of  wise  Asclepius  ended  his  hot  life. 
And  there  they  feasted  far  into  the  night. 

But  when  their  toil  the  next  returning  light 
Brought  back  to  them,  they  gat  unto  the  oar, 
While  Jason  anxiously  scanned  either  shore ; 
For  now  the  stream  was  narrowing  apace, 
And  little  more  than  just  enough  of  space 
Was  left  the  oars ;  but  deep  it  ran  and  slow, 
And  through  a  like  flat  grassy  plain  did  go 
As  that  which  ere  its  burrowing  it  had  cleft ; 
But  lower  were  the  hills,  and  on  the  left 
So  low  they  grew,  they  melted  quite  away 
To  woody  swells  before  the  end  of  day. 

Full  many  a  league  upon  that  day  they  made, 
And  the  next  day  the  long  oars  down  they  laid, 
For  at  their  back  the  steady  south-west  blew, 
And  low  anigh  their  heads  the  rain-clouds  flew ; 
Therefore  they  hoisted  up  their  sail  to  it, 
And  idle  by  the  useless  oars  did  sit, 
Watching  the  long  wave  from  their  swift  sea-plough 
Sweep  up  the  low  green  bank,  for  soothly  now, 
A  pebble,  ill-thrown  by  a  stripling's  hand 
From  Argo's  deck,  had  lighted  on  the  land ; 
And  yet  far  inland  still  they  seemed  to  be, 
Nor  noted  aught  to  tell  them  of  the  sea. 

So  on  that  night,  for  thought  of  many  things, 
Full  little  sleep  fell  on  the  troubled  kings ; 
But  Argus  slept,  and  at  the  dawn  he  dreamed, 
Not  wholly  sleeping,  and  to  him  it  seemed 
That  one  said  to  him  :   "  Where  is  now  become 
The  cunning  that  thou  learnedst  in  thine  home, 
O  wise  artificer  ?     What  dost  thou  here, 
While  in  thy  fellows'  hearts  is  gathering  fear  ? 

15* 


1 66  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Now  from  the  north  thou  seest  this  river  flow, 
Why  doubtest  thou  to  find  another  go 
Into  the  cold  green  icy  northern  sea? 
Lo  !  if  thou  wiliest  well  to  trust  in  me, 
About  the  noontide  of  this  very  day, 
At  the  wood's  end  I  bid  thee  Argo  stay, 
And  from  her  straightway  let  the  Minyae  land 
And  take  the  adze  and  wood-axe  in  the  hand, 
And  let  them  labour  hard,  with  thee  to  guide, 
Until  on  wheels  thy  well-built  keel  shall  glide  ; 
And  this  being  done  as  pleases  thy  wise  mind, 
Doubt  not  a  northern-flowing  stream  to  find, 
For  certainly  some  God  shall  show  it  thee. 
And  if  thou  wishest  now  to  ask  of  me, 
No  dream  I  am,  but  lovely  and  divine, 
Whereof  let  this  be  unto  thee  a  sign, 
That  when  thou  wak'st  the  many-coloured  bow 
Across  the  world  the  morning  sun  shall  throw, 
But  me  indeed  thine  eyes  shall  not  behold." 

Then  he,  awaking  in  the  morning  cold, 
A  sprinkle  of  fine  rain  felt  on  his  face, 
And  leaping  to  his  feet,  in  that  wild  place, 
Looked  round  and  saw  the  morning  sunlight  throw 
Across  the  world  the  many-coloured  bow, 
And  trembling  knew  that  the  high  Gods  indeed 
Had  sent  the  Messenger  unto  their  need. 
And  when  the  Miny;c,  running  out  the  oars 
That  windless  morning,  found  them  touch  the  shores 
On  either  side,  then  ere  one  said  a  word, 
He  cried,  arid  said  :   "  0  Jason,  chief  and  lord, 
And  ye,  fair  fellows,  to  no  bitter  end 
Our  quest  is  come ;  but  this  sharp  keel  shall  send 
A  glittering  furrow  up  in  the  wide  sea, 
If  ye  will  hoar  my  words  and  trust  in  me." 

Therewith  he  told  them  of  that  dream  divine, 


OF   JASON.  167 

And  of  the  many-coloured  arched  sign, 

And  gladdened  all  their  hearts,  for  well  they  knew 

That  some  God  helped  them,  and  straightway  they  threw 

Hawsers  ashore,  wherewith  their  keel  to  tow, 

And  swiftly  through  the  water  made  her  go, 

Until  they  reached  the  ending  of  the  wood, 

Just  at  the  noonday,  and  there  thought  it  good 

To  rest  till  morning :  but  at  dawn  of  day 

Gat  forth,  and  mighty  blows  began  to  lay 

On  many  a  tree,  making  the  tall  trunks  reel, 

That  ne'er  before  had  felt  the  woodman's  steel. 

So  many  days  they  laboured,  cutting  down 
The  smooth  grey  beeches,  and  the  pine-trees  brown, 
And  cleft  them  into  planks  and  beams  foursquare. 
And  so,  with  Argus  guiding  all  things  there, 
A  stage  with  broad  wheels  nigh  the  stream  they  made, 
And  then  from  out  the  water  Argo  weighed 
Little  by  little,  dealing  cunningly, 
Till  on  the  stage  the  great  black  ship  did  lie, 
And  all  things  waited  for  the  setting  forth 
Unto  some  river  flowing  toward  the  north. 

But  'midst  all  this,  as  painfully  they  wrought, 
Passed  twenty  days,  and  on  their  heads  was  brought 
The  first  beginning  of  the  winter  cold ; 
For  now  the  wind-beat  twigs  had  lost  their  hold 
Of  the  faint  yellow  leaves,  and  thin  and  light 
The  forest  grew,  and  colder  night  by  night, 
Or  soaked  with  rain,  and  swept  with  bitter  wind, 
Or  with  white  creeping  mist  made  deaf  and  blind. 

Meanwhile  for  long  there  came  no  sign  at  all, 
Nor  yet  did  sight  of  man  to  them  befall, 
To  guide  them  on  their  way,  though  through  the  trees, 
Singly  at  times,  at  times  in  twos  and  threes, 
Both  for  their  daily  flesh  they  hunted  oft, 
And  also  fain  of  fells  to  clad  them  soft, 
And  guard  their  bodies  from  the  coming  cold ; 


1 68  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Yet  never  any  man  did  they  behold, 
Though  underneath  the  shaft  and  hunting-spear 
Fell  many  a  stag,  and  shuffling  crafty  bear, 
And  strange  the  Minyae  showed  in  shaggy  spoil. 

But  now,  at  ending  of  their  woodwright's  toil, 
It  chanced  Argus'  self  alone  to  go, 
One  bitter  day,  when  the  first  dusty  snow 
Was  driven  through  the  bare  boughs  from  the  east, 
In  hot  chase  of  the  honey-loving  beast 
Far  from  his  fellows  :  him  he  brought  to  bay 
Nigh  to  the  dusk  of  that  quick-darkening  day, 
Deep  in  the  forest  'mid  a  clump  of  yews, 
And  ere  the  red-eyed  beast  again  could  choose 
To  fight  or  flee,  ran  in,  and  thrust  his  spear 
Into  his  heart ;  then  fell  the  shaggy  bear, 
As  falls  a  landslip  by  the  mining  sea, 
With  grass  and  bracken,  and  wind-bitten  tree, 
And  Argus,  drawing  out  his  two-edged  knife, 
Let  out  the  last  spark  of  his  savage  life  ; 
But  as  he  arose,  he  heard  a  voice  that  said :  — 
"  Good  luck,  0  huntsman,  to  thine  hardihead, 
Well  met  thou  art  to  me,  who  wander  far 
On  this  first  winter  night  that  shows  no  star." 

Then  looking  up,  he  saw  a  maid  draw  nigh, 
Like  those  who  by  Thermodon  live  and  die  ; 
Her  legs  and  arms  with  brazen  scales  were  clad, 
Well-plated  shoes  upon  her  feet  she  had, 
And  fur-lined,  gold-wrought  raiment  to  the  knee, 
And  on  her  head  a  helm  wrought  royally ; 
In  her  slim  hand  a  mighty  bow  she  bore, 
And  at  her  back  well-feathered  shafts  good  store, 
And  in  her  belt  a  two-edged  cutting  sword. 
Then  straightly  answered  Argus  to  her  word :  — 
"  Lady,  not  far  hence  are  my  fellows  stayed, 
But  on  hard  earth  this  night  will  they  be  laid, 
And  eat  the  flesh  of  beasts  their  hands  have  slain. 


OF   JASON.  169 

For  from  the  sea  we  come,  to  meet  again 
The  ocean  that  the  round  world  rings  about, 
Still  wandering  on,  in  trouble  and  in  doubt." 

"  Nay,"  said  she,  "  let  us  set  on  through  the  wood, 
For  food  and  fire  alone  to  me  are  good, 
And  guarded  sleep  among  such  folk  as  thee, 
For  being  alone,  I  fear  the  enemy, 
The  savage  men  our  bands  are  wont  to  chase 
Through  these  wild  woods,  from  tangled  place  to  place." 

Then  Argus  swiftly  flayed  off  the  bear's  hide, 
And  through  the  wood  went  with  her  side  by  side  ; 
But  long  ere  they  could  reach  the  skirts  of  it, 
Across  the  world  the  wings  of  night  'gan  flit ; 
Then  blindly  had  he  stumbled  through  the  place, 
But  still  the  damsel  went  before  a  pace, 
Leading  him  on  ;  and  as  she  went,  she  shed 
A  faint  light  round,  but  no  word  Argus  said, 
Because  he  deemed  she  was  a  thing  divine, 
And  in  his  heart  still  thought  upon  the  sign. 

So  went  the  twain  till  nigh  the  woods  were  past, 
And  the  new-risen  moon  slim  shadows  cast 
Upon  the  thin  snow,  and  the  windless  sky 
Was  cleared,  and  all  the  stars  shone  frostily. 
Therewith  she  stopped,  and  turned  about  on  him, 
And  with  the  sight  his  dazzled  eyes  did  swim, 
So  was  she  changed,  for  from  her  raiment  light 
Her  rosy  limbs  showed  'gainst  the  wintry  white, 
Not  shrinking  from  the  snow ;  her  arms  were  bare, 
Her  head  unarmed  set  round  with  yellow  hair, 
And  starred  with  unnamed  dainty  glimmering  things  ; 
From  her  two  shoulders  many-coloured  wings 
Rose  up,  and  fanning  in  the  frosty  night, 
Shone  as  they  moved  with  sparkles  of  strange  light  ; 
And  on  an  ivory  rod  within  her  hand 
A  letter  bound  round  by  a  golden  band 
He  saw.     Then  to  the  dazed  man  she  said  :  — 


1 70  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

"  Argus,  be  glad,  and  lifting  up  thine  head, 

Look  through  these  few  last  trees  upon  the  plain, 

Smooth  and  unseamed,  though  never  crossed  by  wain, 

And  thank  the  Gods  that  led  you  here  at  last, 

For  in  no  long  time  shall  the  leagues  be  passed 

'Twixt  you  and  a  swift  river  running  north. 

But  now  next  morn  at  daybreak  get  ye  forth, 

And  labour  all  ye  may,  for  see  the  sky 

How  clear  it  is  —  the  few  light  clouds  are  high, 

And  from  the  east  light  blows  the  frosty  wind  ; 

Firm  will  the  way  be  now,  nor  ill  to  find, 

But  surely  in  few  days  will  come  the  snow, 

And  all  the  plain,  so  smooth  and  even  now, 

Shall  be  swept  into  drifts  impassable. 

And  now  I  bid  thee  heed  the  great  downs  well 

Thou  seest  bar  the  northern  way  to  thee  ; 

Left  of  the  moon  a  wide  pass  thou  mayst  see  ; 

Look  —  where  the  yew-trees  o'er  the  whitened  grass 

Mix  with  the  dark  sky :  make  ye  for  that  pass, 

While  yet  endures  the  east  wind  and  the  frost, 

And  in  your  journey  shall  ten  days  be  lost, 

If  that  ye  labour  hard  :  but  coming  there, 

Shall  ye  behold  a  clear  green  river  fair, 

Unfrozen  yet,  swift-running,  that  will  hold 

Great  Argo  well:  now  at  my  word  be  bold, 

And  set  her  therein,  and  the  black  ship  tow 

Adown  the  stream,  though  not  far  shall  ye  go, 

But,  reaching  a  great  forest,  bide  ye  there, 

And  there  the  coming  unknown  winter  bear. 

The  days  shall  darken,  the  north-wind  shall  blow, 

And  all  about  shall  swirl  the  drifting  snow, 

And  your  astonished  eyes  shall  soon  behold 

Firm  earth  and  river  one  with  binding  cold, 

And  in  mid-winter  then  shall  ye  be  shut ; 

But  ere  that  haps  shall  ye  build  many  an  hut, 

And  dwell  there  as  ye  may,  until  the  spring 

Unchains  the  streams,  and  quickens  everything. 


OF   JASON.  171 

Then  got  ye  down  the  river  to  the  sea. 

Nor  doubt  thou  aught  since  thou  beholdest  me, 

For  I  indeed  am  Iris ;  but  farewell, 

For  of  my  finished  message  must  I  tell 

To  her  that  sent  me  to  this  dreary  place." 

So  spake  she,  and  straightway  before  his  face 
She  spread  her  fair  wings  wide,  and  from  the  earth 
Rose  upwards  toward  the  place  that  gave  her  birth, 
Still  growing  faint  and  fainter  'neath  the  moon, 
Till  from  his  wondering  eyes  she  vanished  soon. 
But  she  being  gone,  he  gat  him  straight  away 
Unto  his  fellows,  bidding  them  'gainst  day 
Be  ready  to  set  forth,  and  told  his  tale. 
And  they,  not  fearing  that  his  word  should  fail, 
Gat  them  to  sleep,  and  ere  the  late  dawn  came, 
By  the  faint  starlight  and  the  flickering  flame 
Of  their  own  watch-fires  were  upon  the  way. 

So  at  the  cables  toiled  all  men  that  day 
In  bands  of  twenty,  and  strong  shoulders  bore 
The  unused  yoke,  and  laboured  very  sore, 
And  yet  with  all  their  toil  few  miles  they  made, 
Though  'gainst  that  bitter  labour  sweet  hope,  weighed, 
Was  found  the  heavier,  and  their  hearts  were  cheered 
With  wine  and  food  ere  the  noontide  they  neared ; 
Nor  as  they  laboured  did  the  Thracian  spare 
To  cast  his  music  on  the  frosty  air, 
That  therewith  ringing,  gladdened  every  heart. 
So  till  the  evening  did  each  man  his  part, 
When  all  the  night  they  slept,  and  at  daybreak 
The  twisted  cables  in  strong  hands  did  take 
And  laboured  on,  not  earning  warriors'  meed, 
But  like  some  carl's  unkempt  and  rugged  steed, 
That  to  the  town  drags  his  corn-laden  wain. 

But  neither  was  the  heavenly  word  in  vain, 
For  as  the  yew-clad  hill  they  drew  anear 


172  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  grey-eyed  keen  Messenian  could  see  clear, 
From  the  bare  top  of  a  great  ashen-tree, 
The  river  running  to  the  northern  sea, 
Showing  all  dull  and  heavy  'gainst  the  snow  ; 
And  when  the  joyful  tidings  they  did  know, 
Light  grew  their  hearts  indeed,  and  scarcely  less 
They  joyed  than  he  who,  lying  all  helpless 
In  dreary  prison,  sees  his  door  ope  wide, 
And  half-forgotten  friends  stand  by  his  side. 

So  on  the  tenth  day  through  the  pass  they  drew 
Their  strange  ship-laden  wain,  and  came  unto 
A  deep  dark  river,  their  long  promised  road ; 
Then  from  the  car  they  slipped  its  heavy  load, 
And  when  safe  in  the  stream  the  keel  had  slid, 
They  with  strong  axes  their  own  work  undid, 
And  to  the  Goddess  a  great  altar  made 
Of  planks  and  beams,  foursquare,  and  thereon  laid 
A  white  wild  bull,  and  barley  cakes,  and  spice, 
Not  sparing  gold  and  goodly  things  of  price  ; 
And  fire  being  set  thereto,  and  all  things  done 
That  they  should  do,  by  a  faint  mid-day  sun, 
Seaward  they  turned,  and  some  along  the  shore, 
With  lightened  hearts  the  hempen  tow-ropes  bore, 
And  some  on  Argo's  deck  abode  their  turn. 

But  now  did  Jason's  heart  within  him  burn 
To  show  his  deeds  to  other  men  than  these, 
Nor  did  he  quite  forget  the  palaces 
Of  golden  ^a,  long  left,  as  a  dream, 
Or  2Eson's  beauteous  house,  whose  oaken  beam 
Cleft  the  dark  wintry  river,  as  they  went 
With  longing  eyes  and  hearts  still  northward  bent  ; 
And  fain  he  was  to  see  his  dainty  bride, 
That  wrapt  in  muffling  furs  sat  by  his  side, 
Sit  'neath  some  heavy  rustling  summer  tree, 
Thin  clad,  to  drink  the  breezes  from  the  sea. 

Now  the  next  day  the  great  oak-wood  they  reached, 


OF   JASON.  173 

And  as  the  Goddess  bade  them,  there  they  beached 
Their  sea-beat  ship,  on  which  from  side  to  side 
They  built  a  roof  against  the  snowy  tide, 
And  round  about  her  huts  wherein  to  dwell, 
When  on  their  heads  the  full  mid-winter  fell, 
And  round  the  camp  a  wooden  wall  they  made, 
That  by  no  men  or  beasts  they  might  be  frayed. 
Meanwhile,  the  frost  increased,  and  the  thin  snow 
From  off  the  iron  ground  the  wind  did  blow, 
And  in  the  cold,  dark  stream,  from  either  bank 
The  ice  stretched  forth  ;  at  last,  ere  the  sun  sank, 
One  bitter  day,  low  grew  the  clouds  and  dun 
A  little  northward  of  the  setting  sun, 
Wherefrom,  at  nightfall,  sprung  a  furious  blast, 
That,  ere  the  middle  of  the  night  was  past, 
Brought  up  the  snow  from  some  untrodden  land, 
Joyless  and  sunless,  where  in  twilight  stand, 
Amid  the  fleecy  drift  with  faces  wan, 
Giants  immovable  by  God  or  man. 

So  'mid  the  many  changes  of  the  night, 
The  silent  snow  fell  till  the  world  was  white, 
And  to  those  southland  folk  entrapped,  forlorn 
The  waking  was  upon  the  morrow  morn, 
And  few  were  light  of  foot  enough  to  go 
Henceforth  about  the  woods  their  darts  to  throw 
At  bird  or  beast,  though,  as  the  wild-fowl  passed 
South  o'er  their  camp,  yet  flew  they  not  so  fast 
As  Areas'  arrows,  and  the  elk  at  bay 
Deep  in  the  forest,  seldom  found  a  way 
To  'scape  from  Jason's  mighty  well-steeled  spear, 
And  Atalanta's  feet  outran  the  deer 
And  slew  him,  tangled  in  the  wreathed  drift. 
Nor  for  the  rest,  did  they  yet  lack  the  gift 
Of  sunny  Bacchus,  but  by  night  and  day, 
By  firelight  passed  the  snowy  time  away, 

16 


174  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Forgetting  not  their  fathers,  or  the  time 
When  all  the  world  still  dwelt  in  equal  clime, 
But  each  to  each  amid  the  wine-cups  told 
Unwritten,  half-forgotten  tales  of  old. 


BOOK    XIL 

MOST  pitiless  and  stark  the  winter  grew 
Meanwhile,  beneath  a  sky  of  cloudless  blue, 
And  sun  that  warmed  not,  till  they  nigh  forgot 
The  green  lush  spring,  the  summer  rich  and  hot, 
The  autumn  fragrant  with  slow-ripening  fruit ; 
Till  each  grew  listless,  dull  to  the  heart's  root ; 
For  day  passed  day,  and  yet  no  change  they  saw 
In  the  white  sparkling  plain  without  a  flaw, 
No  cloud,  no  change  within  the  sunny  sky, 
Or  in  the  wind,  that  rose  at  noon,  to  die 
Before  the  sunset,  and  no  change  at  all 
In  the  drear  silence  of  the  dead  nightfall. 

Ten  weeks  they  bode  there,  longing  for  the  spring, 
And  to  the  hearts  of  some  the  thought  would  cling 
That  thus  they  should  be  till  their  lives  were  past, 
And  into  hopeless  bonds  that  land  was  cast ; 
But  on  a  day  the  wind,  that  rose  at  noon, 
Died  not  at  night,  and  the  white,  sharp-edged  moon, 
Just  as  the  west  had  given  it  to  sight, 
Was  hidden  from  the  watchers  of  the  night 
By  fleecy  clouds,  and  the  next  dawn  of  day 
Broke  o'er  the  Minyre  colourless  and  grey, 
With  gusts  of  fitful  wind  'twixt  south  and  east, 
That  with  the  day  grew  steadier  and  increased, 
Until  a  south-west  gale  blew  o'er  the  snow, 
And  northward  drove  the  steel-blue  clouds  and  low. 


OF   JASON.  175 

And  on  that  night  the  pattering  of  the  rain 
Roused  them  from  sleep,  and  next  they  saw  the  plain 
Made  grey  and  ugly  with  quick-coming  thaw, 
And  all  the  sky  beset  with  fowl  they  saw, 
Who  sniffed  the  wind  and  hastened  from  the  sea 
Unto  the  floods  now  coming  certainly. 

For  from  their  camp  the  Minyae  beheld 
How  the  swift  river  from  the  high  ground  swelled, 
And  still  tormented  by  the  wind  and  rain, 
Burst  from  the  ice  and  covered  all  the  plain 
With  breadth  of  turbid  waters,  while  around 
Their  high-raised  camp  again  they  saw  the  ground 
Freed  from  the  swathing  snow  ;  nor  was  it  long 
Ere  in  the  woods  the  birds  began  their  song, 
For  March  was  come  and  life  to  everything, 
Nor  did  the  buds  fear  much  the  doubtful  spring. 

Now  in  few  days  the  sun  shone  out  again, 
The  waters  drew  from  off  the  flooded  plain, 
And  all  was  bright  and  soft  as  it  might  be, 
Though  bank-high  rolled  the  river  to  the  sea, 
Made  perilous  with  trees  and  heavy  drift ; 
Natheless  on  rollers  Argo  did  they  lift, 
And  drew  her  toward  the  stream  in  spite  of  all 
The  ills  they  saw,  and  chances  that  might  fall ; 
And  there  they  launched  her,  being  now  most  fain 
Once  more  to  try  the  green  and  shifting  plain, 
And  for  the  praise  of  other  men  they  yearned, 
And  all  the  goods  of  life  so  dearly  earned, 
Nor  failed  desire  and  longing  love  to  come 
That  spring-tide  to  those  rovers  far  from  home. 

Therefore  with  joy  they  shouted,  when  once  more 
They  felt  great  Argo  move,  and  saw  the  shore 
Keep  changing  as  they  swept  on  toward  the  sea, 
With  cheerful  hearts  still  rowing  steadily ; 
For  now  the  ashen  oars  could  they  thrust  forth 
Into  the  widened  stream,  that  toward  the  north 


176  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Ran  swiftly,  and  thenceforward  day  by  day 
Toiling,  they  made  full  many  a  league  of  way. 
Nor  did  they  see  great  hills  on  either  hand, 
When  they  had  fairly  passed  the  woody  land 
Where  they  abode  the  winter  ;  neither  heard 
The  sound  of  falls  to  make  their  hearts  afeard, 
But  through  great  woods  the  gentle  river  ran, 
And  plains  where  fed  the  herds  unowned  of  man  ; 
Though  sometimes  in  the  night-time  did  they  hear 
Men's  voices  calling  out,  far-off  and  near, 
But  in  some  tongue  not  one  among  them  knew, 
No,  not  the  Queen  :  but  Lynceus,  passing  through 
The  woods,  with  Idas,  following  up  a  bear, 
A  sudden  clamour  of  men's  tongues  did  hear, 
And  in  a  cleared  space  came  upon  a  throng 
Of  naked  men  and  women,  fair  and  strong, 
About  a  fire,  just  at  point  to  eat, 
But  at  the  flash  of  arms  they  to  their  feet 
Rose  suddenly,  and  swiftly  gat  away, 
Nor  durst  the  twain  give  chase  to  them  that  day, 
But  coming  to  that  fire,  laid  their  hands 
On  a  brass  cauldron,  and  three  woollen  bands, 
That  seemed  like  belts  or  fillets  for  their  heads, 
Set  thick  with  silver  knots  and  amber  beads. 
Now  round  the  brazen  cauldron,  graven  well, 
Were  uncouth  letters,  that  some  tale  might  tell, 
If  any  them  could  read  ;  so  when  the  fleece 
Was  offered  up  unto  the  Gods  of  Greece, 
This  thing  in  fair  Mcssene  Idas  hung 
In  the  fair  fane  where  deeds  of  war  are  sung. 

So  through  all  this  the  wearied  Minyre 
Were  drawing  nigh  unto  the  northern  sea, 
And  marshier  grew  the  plain  as  on  they  went, 
And  eastward  the  still-widening  river  bent, 
Until  one  day  at  eve,  with  chilling  rain, 
The  north-wind  blew  across  the  marshy  plain 


OF  JASON.  177 

Most  cold  and  bitter,  but  to  them  as  sweet 
As  the  rose-scented  zephyr  those  do  meet 
Who  near  the  happy  islands  of  the  blest ; 
For  as  upon  their  eager  brows  it  pressed, 
They  sniffed  withal  the  odour  of  the  sea, 
And  going  on  a  mile,  they  seemed  to  be 
Within  some  eddy  rippling  languidly ; 
And  when  the  stream  they  tasted  that  went  by 
Their  shielded  bulwark,  better  was  the  draught 
Than  any  wine  o'er  which  a  king  has  laughed, 
For  still  it  savoured  of  the  bitter  sea. 

So  fell  the  night,  and  next  day  joyously 
They  met  the  full  flood,  whose  first  toppling  wave 
Against  the  sturdy  prow  of  Argo  drave, 
And  with  good  heart,  as  'midst  the  sweeping  oars 
It  tossed  and  foamed,  and  swept  the  muddy  shores, 
They  toiled,  and  felt  no  weariness  that  day. 
But  though  right  well  they  gat  them  on  their  way, 
They  failed  ere  dark  the  open  sea  to  reach ; 
But  in  the  night  the  murmur  of  the  beach, 
Tormented  by  the  changeful  dashing  seas, 
Came  to  their  ears  upon  the  fitful  breeze. 
Then  sore  they  longed  for  dawn,  and  when  it  broke 
Again  the  waters  foamed  beneath  their  stroke, 
Till  they  had  gained  that  river's  utmost  reach, 
Which  from  the  sea  by  a  low  sandy  beach 
Was  guarded  well,  all  but  a  little  space, 
Through  which  now  rushed  in  headlong,  foaming  race, 
The  huddled  waters  of  the  flowing  tide. 
So  there  the  MinyjEe  thought  it  good  to  bide 
And  wait  the  ebb,  dreading  some  hidden  bank  ; 
And  while  they  waited  to  good  hap  they  drank, 
And  poured  out  wine  unto  the  deity 
Who  dwelt  between  the  river  and  the  sea, 
Forgetting  not  the  great  Earth-shaking  One, 

16* 


178  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Nor  Her  by  whose  belp  thus  far  they  had  run 

Their  happy  course  unto  that  river's  mouth. 

And  now  the  wind  had  changed,  and  from  the  south 

Blew  softly,  and  the  hot  sun,  shining  forth, 

Made  lovely  land  of  that  once  bitter  north, 

And  filled  their  hearts  with  longing  thoughts  of  love, 

And  worship  of  the  sea-born  seed  of  Jove. 

But  as  they  waited  thus,  with  hearts  that  burned 
To  try  the  sea,  the  tide  grew  high  and  turned, 
And  seaward  through  the  deepened  channel  ran 
In  gentle  ripple  'gainst  the  breakers  wan. 
Then  thither  gat  the  joyous  Minyee, 
And,  shouting,  drave  out  Argo  to  the  sea. 

But  when  the  first  green  ridge  swept  up  her  bow, 
Then  Jason  cried  :   "  And  who  shall  stop  us  now  ? 
And  who  shall  drive  us  unto  other  end 
Than  that  we  will?     Let  whoso  be  our  friend, 
Whoso  our  foe,  henceforth,  until  the  earth 
Forgets  of  changeful  men  the  death  and  birth, 
We  shall  not  be  forgotten  anywhere, 
But  our  deeds  told  shall  free  sad  folk  from  care." 

So  spake  he,  and  his  love  beholding  him, 
Trembled  for  joy  and  love  in  every  limb, 
And  inwardly  she  saw  an  ivory  throne, 
And  Jason  sitting  with  her  there  alone, 
High  o'er  wise  men  and  warriors  worshipping. 
For  they  were  young,  nor  yet  had  felt  the  sting 
Of  poisonous  fear,  nor  thought  of  coming  age 
And  bitter  death,  the  turning  of  the  page 
By  those  who  quite  forget  what  they  have  read, 
Taking  no  heed  of  living  folk  or  dead. 

Now  hoisting  sail,  and  labouring  with  the  oar, 
They  passed  along  the  amber-bearing  shore, 
A  low  coast,  backed  by  pine-woods  :  none  the  less 
Some  days  they  needs  must  pass  in  idleness, 


OF  JASON.  179 

And  lie-to,  'midst  white  rolling  mist  and  blind, 
Lest  Argo  on  some  shallow  death  should  find ; 
Yet  holpen  by  the  steersman's  mighty  sire, 
Safely  they  sailed  until  the  land  rose  higher, 
And  through  a  narrow  strait  at  last  they  went, 
Brushing  the  unknown  coast,  where,  with  bows  bent, 
They  saw  a  skin-clad  folk  awaiting  them, 
Who  stood  to  watch  the  well-built  Argo  stem 
The  rushing  tide  upon  the  shingly  beach, 
And  thence,  as  knowing  that  they  could  not  reach 
The  heroes  with  their  arrows,  shook  their  spears, 
And  shouted  unknown  threats  to  careless  ears. 

But  when  against  the  midst  of  them  they  came, 
Forth  strode  a  huge  man,  with  red  hair  like  flame, 
And  his  huge  bow  against  them  strongly  drew, 
Wherefrom  a  swift  shaft  straight  to  Argo  flew, 
And  whistling  over  Jason's  head,  stuck  fast 
Over  the  barb-points  in  the  gleaming  mast. 
Then  all  men  praised  that  archer  ;  but  the  man 
Who  in  Arcadian  woods  all  beasts  outran, 
Straight  drew  his  bow  unto  the  arrow-head, 
And  no  man  doubted  that  wild  king  was  dead  : 
Natheless,  unmoved  they  saw  the  archer  stand, 
And  toward  the  Arcadian  arrow  stretch  his  hand, 
That  midmost  of  his  skin-clad  body  smote, 
But  bounded  back  as  from  an  iron  coat. 
Then  loud  his  people  shouted,  and  all  drew 
Their  feeble  bows,  but  short  their  arrows  flew, 
And  through  the  straits  the  wandering  Minyae 
Passed  out  unscathed  into  the  open  sea, 
While  still  of  wizardry  and  charms  they  spoke. 

But  Jason  from  the  mast  the  arrow  broke, 
That  erewhile  had  so  scantly  missed  his  life, 
And  found  it  scored  as  by  a  sharp-edged  knife, 
From  barb  to  notch,  with  what  seemed  written  words, 
In  tongue  unknown  to  aught  but  beasts  and  birds. 
So  when  Medea  saw  it,  straight  she  said  : 


i8o  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

"  Fair  love,  now  praise  some  God- thou  art  not  dead. 
For  from  the  Cimbrian  folk  this  arrow  came, 
And  its  sharp  barbs  within  a  wizard's  flame 
Were  forged  with  peril,  and  the  shaft  of  it 
Was  carved  by  one  who  in  great  fear  did  sit 
Within  the  haunted  places  of  the  wood, 
And  tears  are  on  its  feathers,  and  red  blood  : 
Nor  ask  me  now  the  name  of  her  who  taught 
This  wisdom  to  me  :  but  two  arrows  brought 
From  this  same  folk  to  JEa,  have  I  seen, 
By  one  whose  wounds  will  evermore  be  green 
While  on  the  earth  he  dwells."     So  spoke  the  maid, 
But  Jason,  wondering  at  the  words  she  said, 
Gazed  on  her  fair  face,  smiling  lovingly, 
Nor  cared  to  think  that  he  must  one  day  die. 

Now  rose  a  south-east  gale,  and  Argo  lost 
All  sight  of  land,  and  the  vexed  Minyse,  tost 
From  sea  to  sea,  began  to  feel  a  fear 
They  yet  might  pass  into  some  ocean  drear 
Beyond  the  circling  sea  that  rings  the  world, 
And  down  some  bottomless  abyss  be  hurled, 
To  fall  for  ever :  then  the  winged  twain, 
That  erst  had  been  the  loathly  harpies'  bane, 
Came  forth,  and  on  the  prow  with  wings  spread  wide, 
Half  stood,  half  floated,  while  aloud  they  cried  :  — 

"  What  dost  thou,  Father?  art  thou  sleeping  then, 
And  does  it  not  suffice  that  trading  men 
Float  up  and  down,  dead  corpses  on  the  sea, 
While  all  their  wealth  is  lying  wretchedly 
On  Nereus'  pavement ;  but  must  we  too  drive 
Before  this  south  wind,  hopeless  though  alive, 
, Until  the  farthest  gulfs  shall  suck  us  down, 
And  land  our  battered  keel  at  Pluto's  town  ?  " 

So  spake  they ;  but  still  blew  the  south  the  same 
Until  the  starless  night  upon  them  came, 


OF  JASON.  181 

But  then  a  little  did  its  fury  lull, 

And  when  the  rain-beat  night  was  at  its  full, 

Fell  to  a  light  breeze,  though  still  many  a  sea 

Swept  Argo's  deck,  and  still  the  Minyae 

Had  dread  of  some  returning  hideous  blast. 

But  when  the  doubtful  night  from  them  had  past, 

Barefoot  upon  the  prow  Medea  stood, 

And  burning  in  a  censer  hallowed  wood, 

With  muttered  words  she  swung  it,  nor  took  heed 

Of  how  the  wind  was  dealing  with  her  weed, 

Nor  with  firm-planted  feet  one  whit  did  reck 

Of  washing  of  the  brine  about  the  deck, 

But  swung  her  censer  till  a  bright  red  flame 

From  out  the  piercings  of  its  cover  came  ; 

Then  round  she  turned  and  said  :   "  0  Minyae, 

Fear  not  to  die  within  the  northern  sea, 

For  on  my  head  hither  the  north  wind  comes, 

And  ye  some  day  shall  surely  see  your  homes. 

But  since  upon  us  yet  lies  heavily 

My  brother's  death,  forget  not  we  must  see 

My  father's  godlike  sister,  who  one  day 

With  all  due  rites  that  blood  shall  wash  away. 

"  And  now,  behold  the  sun  shines  through  the  clouds, 
And  ye  may  hear  across  the  well-strained  shrouds 
The  longed-for  wind,  therefore  make  no  delay, 
For  time  it  is  that  we  were  on  our  way, 
So  let  Erginus  to  the  south-west  steer ;  — 

"  But  sleep  to  me  of  all  things  now  is  dear, 
For  with  two  mighty  ones  but  for  your  sake 
Have  I  contended.     He  who  still  doth  shake 
The  firm-set  earth,  and  She  who  draws  the  sea 
This  way  and  that,  the  while  in  majesty 
She  sits,  regarding  little  but  her  will ;  — 
The  fear  of  these  my  heavy  heart  doth  fill." 

So  said  she,  and  with  pale  and  languid  face 
And  half-shut  eyes,  unto  the  guarded  place, 


1 82  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Where  was  her  golden  bed,  the  maiden  came, 
And  in  her  dreams  at  first  saw  blood  and  flame 
O'er  all  the  world,  and  nothing  green  or  fair; 
Then  in  a  snowy  land,  with  body  bare, 
Went  wandering,  be-mocked  of  uncouth  things ; 
Then  stood  before  the  judgment-seat  of  kings, 
Knowing  no  crime  that  she  was  charged  withal, 
Until  at  last  deep  sleep  on  her  did  fall 
Like  death  itself,  wherein  the  troublous  past 
And  fearsome  future  in  one  tomb  are  cast. 

Meanwhile  the  Minyse,  joyful  at  her  tale, 
Ran  out  the  oars  and  hoisted  up  the  sail, 
And  toward  the  south  with  good  hearts  'gan  to  go, 
While  still  they  felt  the  favouring  north  wind  blow, 
And  the  third  day  again  they  saw  the  land, 
That  in  white  cliffs  rose  up  on  the  right  hand, 
Coasting  whereby,  they  came  into  a  strait, 
Or  so  they  deemed,  for  as  the  day  grew  late, 
Beneath  a  frosty  light-blue  sky  and  cold 
Another  country  could  they  now  behold 
Dim  o'er  the  glittering  sea ;  but  in  the  night 
They  by  the  moon  past  the  high  cliff  and  white 
Ceased  not  to  sail,  and  lost  the  other  shore 
When  the  day  broke,  nor  saw  it  any  more 
As  the  first  land  they  coasted,  that  changed  oft 
From  those  high  cliffs  to  meadows  green  and  soft, 
And  then  to  other  cliffs,  some  red,  some  grey, 
Till  all  the  land  at  noon  of  the  fourth  day 
They  left  astern,  sailing  where  fate  might  lead, 
Of  sun  or  stars  scarce  taking  any  heed,  — 
Such  courage  in  their  hearts  the  White-armed  set, 
Since,  clad  in  gold,  was  Pelias  living  yet. 

But  to  the  Gods  now  did  they  sacrifice 
As  seafarers  may  do,  and  things  of  price 
(Javu  to  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  sea, 


OF  JASON.  183 

That  for  their  lives  still  cried  out  hungrily, 

And  though  for  many  days  they  saw  no  shore, 

Yet  fainted  not  their  hearts  as  heretofore, 

For  as  along  the  pathless  plain  they  went, 

The  white-foot  messenger  the  Goddess  sent, 

Who,  unseen,  whispered  in  the  helmsman's  ear, 

And  taught  him  how  the  goodly  ship  to  steer ; 

And  on  a  time  it  chanced  as  the  day  broke, 

And  to  their  life  the  longing  Minyse  woke, 

Across  the  risen  sun  the  west  wind  blew 

A  thin  light  rain,  that  He,  just  shining  through, 

Showed  to  them  all  the  many-coloured  sign  ; 

Then  to  the  Goddess  did  they  pour  out  wine, 

Right  glad  at  heart ;  but  she  the  live-long  day 

By  Argo's  prow  flew  o'er  the  shifting  way 

Unseen  of  all,  and  turned  them  still  to  land ; 

And  as  they  went  the  Thracian's  cunning  hand 

Stole  o'er  the  harp-strings  till  Arion's  steeds 

Gat  them  from  'twixt  the  tangled  water-weeds, 

And  lifted  listening  heads  above  the  sea, 

And  sea-birds,  pensive  with  the  harmony, 

About  the  mast,  above  the  singer  hung, 

With  quivering  wings,  as  from  full  heart  he  sung  :  — 

/-^     *•'  0  death,  that  maketh  life  so  sweet, 
0  fear,  with  mirth  before  thy  feet, 
What  have  ye  yet  in  store  for  us, 
The  conquerors,  the  glorious  ? 

"  Men  say  :   '  For  fear  that  thou  shouldst  die 
To-morrow,  let  to-day  pass  by 
Flower-crowned  and  singing ;  '  yet  have  we 
Passed  our  to-day  upon  the  sea, 
Or  in  a  poisonous  unknown  land, 
With  fear  and  death  on  either  hand, 
And  listless  when  the  day  was  done 
Have  scarcely  hoped  to  see  the  sun 
Dawn  on  the  morrow  of  the  earth, 


184  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Nor  in  our  hearts  have  thought  of  mirth. 
And  while  the  world  lasts,  scarce  again 
Shall  any  sons  of  men  bear  pain 
Like  we  have  borne,  yet  be  alive. 

"  So  surely  not  in  vain  we  strive 
Like  other  men  for  our  reward ; 
Sweet  peace  and  deep,  the  checkered  sward 
Beneath  the  ancient  mulberry-trees, 
The  smooth-paved  gilded  palaces, 
Where  the  shy  thin-clad  damsels  sweet 
Make  music  with  their  gold-ringed  feet ; 
The  fountain  court  amidst  of  it, 
Where  the  short-haired  slave  maidens  sit, 
While  on  the  veined  pavement  lie 
The  honeyed  things  and  spice ry 
Their  arms  have  borne  from  out  the  town. 

"  The  dancers  on  the  thymy  down 
In  summer  twilight,  when  the  earth 
Is  still  of  all  things  but  their  mirth, 
And  echoes  borne  upon  the  wind 
Of  others  in  like  way  entwined. 

"The  merchant  towns'  fair  market-place, 
Where  over  many  a  changing  face 
The  pigeons  of  the  temple  flit, 
And  still  the  outland  merchants  sit 
Like  kings  above  their  merchandise, 
Lying  to  foolish  men  and  wise. 

"  Ah  !  if  they  heard  that  we  were  come 
Into  the  bay,  and  bringing  home 
That  which  all  men  have  talked  about, 
Some  men  with  rage,  and  some  with  doubt, 
Some  with  desire,  some  with  praise, 
Then  would  the  people  throng  the  ways, 
Nor  heed  the  outland  merchandise, 
Nor  any  talk,  from  fools  or  wise, 
But  tales  of  our  accomplished  quest. 


OF  JASON.  185 

"  What  soul  within  the  house  shall  rest 
When  we  come  home  ?     The  wily  king 
Shall  leave  his  throne  to  see  the  thing  ; 
No  man  shall  keep  the  landward  gate, 
The  hurried  traveller  shall  wait  *j 

,  Until  our  bulwarks  graze  the  quay,<     f^J^^ 

/  Unslain  the  milk-white  bull  shall  bej 
Beside  the  quivering  altar-flame  ;  ^ 
Scarce  shall  the  maiden  clasp  for  shame 
Over  her  breast  the  raiment  thin 
The  morn  that  Argo  cometh  in. 

"  Then  cometh  happy  life  again 
That  payeth  well  our  toil  and  pain 
In  that  sweet  hour,  when  all  our  woe 
But  as  a  pensive  tale  we  know, 
Nor  yet  remember  deadly  fear ; 
For  surely  now  if  death  be  near, 
Unthought  of  is  it,  and  unseen 
When  sweet  is,  that  hath  bitter  been." 

So  sung  the  Thracian,  and  the  rowing-folk 
Sent  Argo  quivering  with  the  well-timed  stroke 
Over  the  green  hills,  through  great  clouds  of  spray, 
And  as  they  went  upon  their  happy  way 
About  the  deck  the  longing  men  would  stand 
With  wistful  eyes  still  gazing  for  the  land  ; 
Which  yet  they  saw  not,  till  the  cool  fresh  night 
Had  come  upon  them,  with  no  lack  of  light, 
For  moon  and  stars  shone  brightly  overhead, 
Nor  through  the  night  did  Iris  fail  to  lead 
The  wave-tossed  Argo  o'er  the  glittering  sea. 

So  as  the  moon  set,  did  there  seem  to  be, 
Upon  their  larboard,  banks  of  high-piled  cloud, 
Which  from  their  sight  the  last  dark  hour  did  shroud. 
Then  came  the  twilight,  and  those  watchers  fain 
Against  the  eastern  light  beheld  again 


1 86  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  clouds  unchanged ;  and  as  the  daylight  grew, 
Lynceus  cried  out :  "  Some  land  we  draw  unto ! 
Look  forth,  Erginus,  on  these  mountains  grey, 
If  thou,  perchance,  hast  seen  them  ere  to-day." 

Therewith  all  turned  about,  and  some  men  ran 
To  hear  what  words  the  God-begotten  man 
Would  say,  who  answered  :  "  Lynceus,  and  all  ye, 
The  man  we  left  ere  while  across  the  sea 
Might  tell  us  this,  the  godlike  Hercules  ; 
Yet  I  myself  think  that  the  landless  seas 
No  more  shall  vex  us  now,  but  that  we  come 
Unto  the  gates  that  look  into  our  home  : 
So  trim  the  sails,  for  thither  will  I  steer, 
Seeking  what  lies  beyond  with  little  fear, 
Since  surely  now  I  see  the  Iberian  land 
That  'gainst  the  shore  of  Africa  doth  stand. 
To  break  these  mighty  billows,  ever  pressed 
Each  against  each  from  out  the  landless  west." 

So  with  glad  hearts  all  men  his  bidding  did, 
And  swiftly  through  the  water  Argo  slid, 
Till  as  the  sun  rose  were  they  near  the  strait, 
At  whose  mouth  but  a  little  did  they  wait 
Till  they  had  eaten,  pouring  honeyed  wine 
Unto  the  Gods,  then  biding  no  new  sign, 
They  cried  aloud,  and  running  out  the  oars, 
They  swept  great  Argo  midmost  'twixt  the  shores 
Of  either  land,  and  as  her  gilded  prow 
Cleft  the  new  waters,  clean  forgotten  now 
Grew  all  the  wasteful  washing  of  the  main, 
And  clean  forgotten  the  dull  hopeless  pain, 
In  the  great  swirling  river  left  so  long, 
And  in  all  hearts  the  memory  was  strong 
Of  the  bright  Grecian  headlands  and  the  bay 
They  left  astern  upon  a  glorious  day. 


OF  JASON.  187 


BOOK   XIII. 

BUT  as  along  the  shore  they  sailed  next  day, 
Full  many  a  headland  on  their  lucky  way 
Erginus  knew,  but  said  no  towns  there  were 
Within  that  land,  but  that  from  year  to  year 
Well-nigh  untilled  the  earth  her  produce  gave, 
And  many  a  herd  the  houseless  people  drave, 
And  using  neither  roof  nor  sheltering  wall, 
Dwelt  but  in  tents,  and  had  no  want  at  all. 

With  that  he  bade  them  trim  the  bellying  sail, 
For  from  the  land  now  blew  a  gentle  gale, 
Spice-laden,  warm,  that  made  their  full  hearts  yearn 
For  unseen  things,  but  soon  they  left  astern 
That  fruitful  place,  the  lion-haunted  land, 
Nor  saw  but  tumbling  seas  on  either  hand. 

Three  days  they  sailed,  and  passed  on  the  third  day 
A  rock-bound  coast  upon  their  left  that  lay, 
But  on  the  morrow  eve  made  land  again, 
Stretched  right  ahead  across  the  watery  plain, 
Whereto  ere  nightfall  did  they  draw  anear, 
And  so  lay-to  till  dawn  with  little  fear ; 
For  from  the  shore  a  light,  soft  land-wind  blew. 

But  as  the  dead  night  round  about  them  drew, 
The  ceaseless  roar  of  savage  beasts  they  heard, 
Mingled  with  sounds  like  cries  of  men  afeard, 
And  blare  of  horns,  and  clank  of  heavy  chains, 
And  noise  of  bells,  such  as  in  moonlit  lanes 
Kings  from  the  grey  team  on  the  market-night. 

And  with  these  noises  did  they  see  a  light, 
That  seemed  to  light  some  crown  of  palaces, 
Shining  from  out  a  grove  of  thickset  trees. 
Then  did  the  Minyae  doubt  if  they  were  come 
Unto  some  great  king's  well-adorned  home, 


1 88  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Or  if  some  temple  of  a  God  were  there, 
Or  if,  indeed,  the  spirits  of  the  air 
Haunted  that  place  :  so  slowly  passed  away 
The  sleepless  night,  and  at  the  dawn  of  day 
Their  longing  eyes  beheld  a  lovely  land, 
Green  meadows  rising  o'er  a  yellow  strand, 
Well-set  with  fair  fruit-bearing  trees,  and  groves 
Of  thick-leaved  elms,  all  populous  of  doves, 
And  watered  by  a  wandering  clear  green  stream  ; 
And  through  the  trees  they  saw  a  palace  gleam 
Of  polished  marble,  fair  beyond  man's  thought. 

There  as  they  lay,  the  sweetest  scents  were  brought 
By  sighing  winds  across  the  bitter  sea, 
And  languid  music  breathed  melodiously, 
Steeping  their  souls  in  such  unmixed  delight, 
Their  hearts  were  melted,  and  all  dim  of  sight 
They  grew,  and  scarce  their  hands  could  grip  the  oar, 
And  as  they  slowly  neared  the  happy  shore, 
The  young  men  well-nigh  wept,  and  e'en  the  wise 
Thought  they  had  reached  the  gate  of  Paradise. 

But  'midst  them  stood  Medea,  and  thoughtfully 
Gazed  landward  o'er  the  ripple  of  the  sea, 
And  said  no  word,  till  from  her  precious  things 
She  drew  a  casket  full  of  chains  and  rings, 
And  took  therefrom  a  chaplet  brown  and  sere, 
And  set  it  on  her  head  :  and  now  being  near 
The  yellow  strand,  high  on  the  poop  she  stood, 
And  said  :   "0  heroes,  what  has  chilled  your  blood, 
That  in  such  wise  ye  gaze  upon  this  land 
With  tearful  eye,  and  nerveless,  languid  hand, 
And  heaving  breast,  and  measureless  desire  'I 
Be  wise,  for  here  the  never-dying  fire 
The  God-begotten  wonder,  Circe,  lights, 
The  wise  of  women,  framer  of  delights 
That  being  of  man  once  felt,  he  ne'er  shall  cease 
To  long  for  vainly,  as  the  years  increase 
On  his  dulled  soul,  shut  in  some  bestial  form. 


OF  JASON.  189 

"  And  good  it  had  been  that  some  bitter  storm 
Were  tossing  Argo's  planks  from  sea  to  sea", 
Than  ye  had  reached  this  fair  land,  but  for  me, 
Who  amid  tears  and  prayers,  and  nameless  pain, 
Some  little  wisdom  have  made  shift  to  gain  : 
Look  forth  upon  the  green  shore,  and  behold 
Those  many  beasts,  all  collared  with  fine  gold, 
Lions  and  pards,  and  small-eyed  restless  bears, 
And  tusked  boars,  who  from  uneasy  lairs 
Are  just  come  forth  ;  nor  is  there  'mongst  them  one 
But  once  walked  upright  underneath  the  sun, 
And  had  the  name  of  man  :  such  shall  ye  be, 
If  from  the  ship  ye  wander  heedlessly, 
But  safely  I  my  kinswoman  may  meet, 
And  learn  from  her  the  bitter  and  the  sweet 
That  waits  us  ere  ye  come  to  Greece  again, 
And  see  the  wind-swept  green  Thessalian  plain. 

"  Meanwhile,  let  nothing  tempt  you  to  the  land, 
Nor  unto  anything  stretch  forth  the  hand 
That  comes  from  shore,  for  all  ye  may  see  there 
Are  but  lost  men  and  their  undoers  fair." 

But  with  that  word  they  furrowed  the  wet  sand, 
And  straight  they  ran  the  gangway  out  to  land, 
O'er  which,  with  girded  raiment,  passed  the  queen  ; 
But  now  another  marvel  was  there  seen, 
For  to  the  shore,  from  many  a  glade  and  lawn, 
The  golden-collared,  sad-eyed  beasts  were  drawn 
In  close-set  ranks  above  the  sea-beat  shore, 
And  open-mouthed,  with  varying  moan  and  roar, 
White-foot  Medea  did  they  seem  to  threat ; 
Whereat  the  Minyne  on  their  bow-strings  set 
The  notches  of  their  arrows,  but  the  maid 
Turned  round  about,  with  calm  face  unafraid, 
And  said  :   "0  Minyae,  lay  your  weapons  down, 
Nor  fear  for  me  ;  behold  this  chaplet  brown, 
Whose  withered  leaves  rest  lightly  on  my  head, 
17* 


190  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

This  is  the  herb  that  Gods  and  mortals  dread, 
The  Pontic  Moly,  the  unchanging  charm." 

Then  up  the  beach  she  passed,  and  her  white  arm 
This  way  and  that  the  leopards  thrust  aside, 
And  'mid  the  grisly  swine  her  limbs  did  glide, 
And  on  a  lion's  mane  her  hand  she  laid ; 
But  still  with  moans  they  thronged  about  the  maid, 
As  she  passed  onward  to  the  palace  white, 
Until  the  elm-groves  hid  her  from  the  sight. 

Then  they  with  fearful  hearts  did  sacrifice 
Unto  the  Gods  in  their  seafaring  wise, 
But  of  the  lovely  land  were  they  so  fain 
That  their  return  they  scarcely  counted  gain, 
Unto  the  green  plain  dotted  o'er  with  folds 
And  that  fair  bay  that  Pelion  beholds. 

Meanwhile  Medea  through  the  thick-leaved  grove 
Passed  underneath  the  moaning  of  the  dove, 
Not  left  by  those  strange  beasts ;  until  at  last 
Her  feet  from  off  the  sparse  long  grasses  passed 
Unto  a  sunny  space  of  daisied  sward, 
From  which  a  strange-wrought  silver  grate  did  guard 
A  lovely  pleasance,  set  with  flowers,  foursquare, 
On  three  sides  ending  in  a  cloister  fair 
That  hid  the  fair  feet  of  a  marble  house, 
Carved  thick  with  flowers  and  stories  amorous. 
And  midmost  of  the  slender  garden  trees 
A  gilded  shrine  stood,  set  with  images, 
Wherefrom  the  never-dying  fire  rose  up 
Into  the  sky,  and  a  great  jewelled  cup 
Ran  over  ever  from  a  runlet  red 
Of  fragrant  wine,  that  'mid  the  flowers  shed 
Strange  scent  that  grapes  yield  not  to  any  man, 
While  round  about  the  shrine  four  streamlets  ran 
From  golden  founts  to  freshen  that  green  place. 

So  there  Medea  stayed  a  little  space, 


OF  JASON.  191 

Gazing  in  wonder  through  the  silver  rail 

That  fenced  the  garden  from  the  wooded  vale  ; 

For  damsels  wandered  there  in  languid  wise 

As  though  they  weaned  of  that  Paradise, 

Their  jewelled  raiment  dragging  from  its  stalk 

The  harmless  daisy  in  their  listless  walk. 

But  though  from  rosy  heel  to  golden  head 

Most  fair  they  were  and  wrought  with  white  and  red, 

Like  to  the  casket-bearer  who  beguiled 

The  hapless  one,  and  though  their  lips  still  smiled, 

Yet  to  the  Colchian  heavy-eyed  they  seemed, 

And  each  at  other  gazed  as  though  she  dreamed, 

Not  noting  aught  of  all  the  glorious  show 

She  joined  herself,  nor  seeming  more  to  know 

What  words  she  spoke  nor  what  her  fellows  sung, 

Nor  feeling  arms  that  haply  round  her  clung. 

For  here  and  there  the  Colchian  maid  could  see 
Some  browned  seafarer  kissing  eagerly 
White  feet  or  half-bared  bosom,  and  could  hear 
A  rough  voice  stammering  'twixt  love  and  fear 
Amid  the  dreamy  murmur  of  the  place, 
As  on  his  knees,  with  eager  upturned  face^ 
Some  man  would  pour  forth  many  a  fruitless  word, 
That  did  but  sound  like  song  of  a  wild  bird 
Unto  his  love ;  while  she  for  all  reply, 
Still  gazing  on  his  flushed  face  wearily, 
Would  undo  clasp  and  belt,  and  show  to  him 
Undreamed-of  loveliness  of  side  or  limb. 

And  in  such  guise  of  half-stripped  jewelled  weed, 
The  men  entrapped,  Medea  saw  them  lead 
Into  the  dark  cool  cloister,  whence  again 
They  came  not  forth,  but  four-foot,  rough  of  mane, 
Uncouth  with  spots  and  dangerous  of  claw. 

But  when  the  sad-eyed  beasts  about  her  saw 
These  draw  towards  them,  and  beheld  the  gate 
Open  and  shut,  and  fellows  to  that  state 


192  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

New  come,  they  whined,  and  brushing  round  her  feet 

Prayed  for  return  unto  that  garden  sweet, 

Their  own  undoing  once,  that  yet  shall  be 

Death  unto  many  a  toiler  of  the  sea, 

Because  all  these  outside  the  silver  grate 

Were  men  indeed  though  inarticulate, 

And,  spite  of  seeming,  in  none. otherwise 

Did  longing  torture  them,  than  when  in  guise 

Of  men  they  stood  before  that  garden  green, 

And  first  their  eyes  the  baneful  place  had  seen. 

But  now  the  queen  grew  wroth,  for  in  her  way, 
Before  the  gate  a  yellow  lion  lay, 
A  tiger-cat  her  raiment  brushed  aside, 
And  o'er  her  feet  she  felt  a  serpent  glide, 
The  swine  screamed  loud  about  her,  and  a  pard 
Her  shining  shoulder  of  her  raiment  bared 
With  light  swift  clutch ;  then  she  from  off  her  head 
Took  the  sere  moly  wreath,  and  therewith  said  :  — 
"  What  do  ye,  wretches?  know  ye  not  this  sign, 
That  whoso  wears  is  as  a  thing  divine  ? 
Get  from  this  place,  for  never  more  can  ye 
Become  partakers  of  the  majesty 
That  from  man's  soul  looks  through  his  eager  eyes. 
Go  —  wail  that  ever  ye  were  made  so  wise 
As  men  are  made  who  chase  through  smooth  and  rough 
Their  own  undoing,  nor  can  have  enough 
Of  bitter  trouble  and  entangling  woe." 

Then  slowly  from  her  did  those  monsters  go, 
In  varied  voices  mourning  for  their  lot, 
And  that  sweet  poison  ne'er  to  be  forgot. 

But  straight  with  serious  face  the  Colchian  maid 
Her  slender  fingers  on  the  latchet  laid 
That  held  the  silver  gate,  and  entered  in  ; 
Nor  did  those  weary  images  of  sin 
Take  any  heed  of  her  as  she  passed  by, 


OF  JASON.  193 

But,  if  they  met  her  eyes,  stared  listlessly, 
Like  those  who  walk  in  sleep,  and  as  they  dream 
Turn  empty  faces  to  the  lightning's  gleam, 
And  murmur  softly  while  the  thunder  rolls. 

Swiftly  she  passed  those  bodies  void  of  souls, 
And  through  the  darkling  corridor  she  passed, 
And  reached  a  huge  adorned  hall  at  last, 
Where  sat  alone  the  deathless  sorceress, 
Upon  whose  knees  an  open  book  did  press, 
Wherein  strange  things  the  Gods  knew  not,  she  read. 
A  golden  vine-bough  wreathed  her  golden  head, 
And  her  fair  body  a  thin  robe  did  touch 
"With  silken  folds,  but  hid  it  not  so  much 
As  the  cool  ripple  hides  Diana's  feet, 
When  through  the  brook  the  roe-deer,  slim  and  fleet, 
She  follows  at  the  dawning  of  the  day. 

Smiling,  she  put  the  wondrous  book  away ; 
As  the  light  footsteps  fell  upon  her  ear, 
She  raised  her  head,  and  when  the  queen  drew  near, 
Shevsaid  :  "  0  wanderer  from  sea  to  sea, 
I  greet  thee  well,  and  dear  thou  art  to  me ; 
Though  verily  if  I  could  wish  for  aught, 
I  could  have  wished  thou  hadst  been  hither  brought 
Ere  that  had  happed  to  thee  that  haps  to  all, 
Into  the  troublous  sea  of  love  to  fall, 
Then  like  unto  the  gods  shouldst  thou  have  been, 
Nor  ever  died,  but  sitting  here  have  seen 
The  fashion  of  the  foolish  world  go  by, 
And  drunk  the  cup  of  power  and  majesty. 

"  But  now  it  may  not  be,  and  thou  must  come, 
With  him  thou  boughtedst,  to  a  troublous  home ; 
But  since  indeed  the  fates  will  have  it  so, 
Take  heed  thou  dost  the  things  I  bid  thee  do. 
And,  first,  since  thou  wouldst  have  me  purify 
Your  hands  of  his  blood  that  thou  sawest  die 
'Twixt  yellow  Phasis  and  the  green-ridged  sea, 


194  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Behold,  this  is  not  possible  to  me, 
Nor  ever  must  another  altar  stand 
In  this  green  nook  of  the  Italian  land 
To  aught  but  me,  no,  not  unto  my  Sire  ; 
But  unto  him  shall  ye  light  ruddy  fire, 
When,  drawing  nigh  to  your  desired  home, 
Unto  the  headland  of  Malea  ye  come ; 
And  then,  indeed,  I  bid  you  not  to  spare 
Spices  and  golden  things  and  raiment  fair, 
But  to  the  country  folk  give  things  of  price, 
And  from  them  take  wherewith  to  sacrifice, 
A  hundred  milk-white  bulls,  a  hundred  kine, 
And  many  a  jar  of  unmixed  honeyed  wine, 
And,  crowned  with  olive,  round  the  altars  sing 
Unto  the  God  who  gladdens  everything, 
Thy  father's  father,  the  all-seeing  Sun. 
And  then  the  deed  thy  Jason's  spear  has  done 
Mayst  thou  forget,  it  shall  not  visit  thee. 
Moreover,  sailing  hence  across  the  sea, 
A  waste  of  yellow  sand  shall  ye  pass  by 
'Neath  the  Trinacrian  clhTs,  whereon  shall  lie 
Fair  women,  fairer  than  thine  eyes  have  seen. 
And  if  thou  still  wouldst  be  a  Grecian  queen, 
When  to  that  deadly  place  ye  draw  anear, 
And  sweetest  music  ye  begin  to  hear, 
Bid  your  bold  love  steer  Argo  from  the  land, 
While  Thracian  Orpheus  takes  his  harp  in  hand, 
And  sings  thereto  some  God-delighting  strain. 
And  surely  else  shall  all  your  toil  be  vain, 
For  deadlier  than  my  gardens  are  those  sands ; 
And  when  the  mariner's  toil-hardened  hands 
Keach  out  unto  those  bodies  fair  and  white, 
They  clasp  but  death  instead  of  their  delight. 

"  But,  doing  as  I  bid,  Malea  reach, 
And  after,  nigh  lolchos  Argo  beach, 
Yet  at  the  city  haste  ye  not  to  land, 


OF  JASON.  195 

For  still  the  sceptre  presses  Pelias'  hand, 

And  ^Eson  is  at  rest  for  evermore ; 

Bid  then  thy  folk  lurk  by  some  wooded  shore, 

And  to  the  white-walled  city  straightly  wend 

Thyself  alone,  and  safely  there  make  end 

Of  the  King's  life ;  nor  need  I  teach  thee  how, 

For  deep  unfailing  wiles  thy  soul  doth  know. 

"  What  more  ?  what  more?    I  see  thy  grey  eyes  ask, 
What  course,  what  ending  to  the  tangled  task 
The  Gods  have  set  before  me,  ere  I  die  ? 
0  child,  I  know  all  things,  indeed,  but  why 
Shouldst  thou  know  all,  nor  yet  be  wise  therefore, 
Me  knowledge  grieves  not,  thee  should  it  grieve  sore, 
Nor  knowing,  shouldst  thou  cease  to  hope  or  fear. 
What !  do  men  think  of  death  ere  it  draws  near  ? 
Not  so,  else  surely  would  they  stint  their  strife, 
For  lengthening  out  their  little  span  of  life, 
But  where  each  found  himself  there  should  he  sit, 
Not  moving  hand  or  foot  for  thought  of  it. 
Wherefore  the  Gods,  wishing  the  earth  to  teem 
With  living  wills  like  theirs,  nor  as  a  dream 
To  hold  but  beauty  and  the  lives  of  beasts, 
That  they  may  have  fair  stories  for  their  feasts, 
Have  given  them  forgetfulness  of  death, 
Longings  and  hopes,  and  joy  in  drawing  breath. 
And  they  live  happy,  knowing  nought  at  all, 
Nor  what  death  is,  where  that  shall  chance  to  fall. 
For  while  he  lives,  few  minutes  certainly 
Does  any  man  believe  that  he  shall  die. 
Ah,  what?  thou  hang'st  thine  head,  and  on  thy  feet 
Down  rain  the  tears  from  thy  grey  eyes  and  sweet ; 
Weep  not,  nor  pity  thine  own  life  too  much  : 
Not  painless  shall  it  be,  indeed,  or  such 
As  the  Gods  live  in  their  unchanged  abode, 
And  yet  not  joyless ;  no  unmeasured  load 
Of  sorrow  shall  thy  dull  soul  learn  to  bear, 


196  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

With  nought  to  keep  thee  back  from  death  but  fear, 
Of  what  thou  know'st  not,  knowing  nought  but  pain. 
"  But  though  full  oft  thou  shalt  lift  hands  in  vain, 
Crying  to  what  thou  know'st  not  in  thy  need, 
And  blind  with  agony,  yet  oft,  indeed, 
Shalt  thou  go  nigh  to  think  thyself  divine, 
For  love  of  what  thou  deemest  to  be  thine, 
For  joy  of  what  thou  dreamest  cannot  die. 

"  Live  then  thy  life,  nor  ask  for  misery, 
Most  certain  if  thou  knewest  what  must  be, 
And  then,  at  least,  this  shall  not  hap  to  thee, 
To  be  like  those  who  people  my  sad  groves, 
Beneath  the  moaning  of  the  grey-winged  doves. 
And  'midst  all  pain  and  joy,  and  wrong  and  right, 
Thy  name  to  all  shall  be  a  dear  delight 
While  the  world  lasts,  if  this  avail  thee  aught. 

"  Farewell,  0  child,  whose  feet  alone  have  brought 
An  earthly  damsel  to  my  house  of  gold, 
For  surely  those  thou  didst  ere  while  behold, 
These  hands  have  made,  and  can  unmake  again, 
Nor  know  they  aught  of  love,  or  fear,  or  pain. 
Go,  loiter  not,  this  place  befits  thee  nought, 
Thou  knowest  many  things  full  dearly  bought, 
And  well  I  love  thee,  being  so  wise  and  fair, 
But  what  is  knowledge  in  this  deadly  air, 
That  floats  about  thee,  poisoning  hearts  of  man  ? 
Behold  I  see  thy  cheeks,  that  erst  were  wan, 
Flaming  with  new  desire,  and  in  thine  eyes 
Shine  out  new  thoughts  that  from  thine  heart  arise ; 
Gird  up  thy  raiment,  nor  run  slower  now 
Than  from  the  amorous  bearer  of  the  bow 
Once  Daphne  ran  ;  nor  yet  forget  the  word 
That  thou  from  deadly  lips  this  day  hast  heard." 


OF  JASON.  197 

So  said  she,  and  thereat  the  Colchian  maid 
Turned  from  her  fair  face  shuddering  and  afraid, 
With  beating  heart,  and  flushed  face  like  the  rose 
That  in  the  garden  of  Damascus  grows, 
And  catching  up  her  raiment,  hurried  through 
The  mighty  hall,  where  thick  the  pillars  blue 
Stood  like  a  dream  to  hold  the  roof  aloft ; 
But  as  she  left  it,  musky  odours  soft 
"Were  cast  about  her  by  the  dallying  breeze, 
That  'twixt  the  heavy-fruited  garden-trees 
Blew  o'er  those  golden  heads  and  bodies  white, 
And  limbs  well  made  for  manifold  delight, 
From  'twixt  whose  fingers  and  the  strings  did  flow 
Sweet  music  such  as  Helicon  might  know. 

But  dizzied,  hurrying  through  the  place  she  past, 
Nor  any  look  upon  their  beauty  cast, 
Nor  any  thought  unto  the  music  gave, 
But  set  herself  her  own  vext  soul  to  save 
From  that  dread  place  ;  beginning  now  to  run 
Like  to  a  damsel  of  the  lightfoot  One, 
Who  oft  from  twilight  unto  twilight  goes 
Through  still  dark  woods,  where  never  rough  wind  blows. 

So,  the  grove  passed,  she  made  good  speed  to  reach 
The  edges  of  the  sea,  the  wind-swept  beach ; 
But  as  she  ran,  afar  the  heroes  saw 
Her  raiment  fluttering,  and  made  haste  to  draw 
Their  two-edged  swords,  and  their  strong  bows  to  string, 
Doubting  that  she  was  chased  of  some  dread  thing ; 
And  Jason  leapt  ashore,  and  toward  her  ran, 
And  with  him  went  the  arrow-loving  man, 
The  wise  Arcadian,  and  the  Minyae 
Got  ready  shielded  Argo  for  the  sea. 

But  ere  these  met  her,  with  uplifted  hand, 
She  cried  :   "  Turn  back,  nor  deeper  in  this  land 
Thrust  ye  your  souls ;  nought  chases  me  but  fear, 
And  all  is  well  if  on  the  sea  we  were  ; 

18 


198  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Yea,  if  we  once  were  free  from  fear  and  spell, 
Then,  truly,  better  were  all  things  than  well." 

Thereat  they  stayed,  but  onward  still  she  ran 
Until  she  reached  them,  and  the  godlike  man 
Took  by  the  arm,  and  hurrying  him  along, 
Stayed  not  until  their  feet  were  set  among 
The  last  faint  ripples  of  the  gentle  sea, 
Wherefrom  they  boarded  Argo  speedily, 
And  Jason  bid  all  men  unto  the  oar. 

With  that  they  left  the  fair  death-bearing  shore, 
Not  gladlier  than  some  fair  young  man  may  leave 
His  love,  upon  the  odorous  summer  eve, 
When  she  turns  sighing  to  her  father's  house, 
And  leaves  him  there  alone  and  amorous, 
Heartsick  with  all  that  shame  has  let  him  see, 
Grieved  that  no  bolder  he  has  dared  to  be. 


BOOK    XIY. 

NOW  o'er  the  open  sea  they  took  their  wayy 
For  three  days,  and  at  dawning  of  the  day, 
Upon  the  fourth,  saw  the  Trinacrian  shore, 
And  there-along  they  coasted  two  days  more. 
Then  first  Medea  warned  them  to  take  heed, 
Lest  they  should  end  all  memory  of  their  deed 
Where  dwell  the  Sirens  on  the  yellow  sand, 
And  folk  should  think  some  tangled  poisonous  land 
Had  buried  them,  or  some  tumultuous  sea 
O'er  their  white  bones  was  tossing  angrily; 
Or  that  some  muddy  river,  far  from  Greece, 
Drove  seaward  o'er  the  ringlets  of  the  fleece. 

But  when  the  Minyao  hearkened  to  this  word, 
With  many  a  thought  their  wearied  hearts  were  stirred, 


OF  JASON.  199 

And  longing  for  the  near-gained  Grecian  land, 
Where  in  a  little  while  their  feet  should  stand ; 
Yet  none  the  less  like  to  a  happy  dream, 
Now,  when  they  neared  it,  did  their  own  home  seem, 
And  like  a  dream  the  glory  of  their  quest, 
And  therewithal  some  thought  of  present  rest 
Stole  over  them,  and  well-nigh  made  them  sigh 
To  hear  the  sighing  restless  wind  go  by. 

But  now,  nigh  even  on  the  second  day, 
As  o'er  the  gentle  waves  they  took  their  way, 
The  orange-scented  land-breeze  seemed  to  bear 
Some  other  sounds  unto  the  listening  ear 
Than  all  day  long  they  had  been  hearkening  — 
The  land-born  signs  of  many  a  well-known  thing. 
Thereat  Medea  trembled,  for  she  knew 
That  nigh  the  dreadful  sands  at  last  they  drew, 
For  certainly  the  Sirens'  song  she  heard, 
Though  yet  her  ear  could  shape  it  to  no  word, 
And  by  their  faces  could  the  queen  behold 
How  sweet  it  was,  although  no  tale  it  told, 
To  those  worn  toilers  o'er  the  bitter  sea.     ^ 

Now,  as  they  sped  along,  they  presently, 
Rounding  a  headland,  reached  a  little  bay, 
Walled  from  the  sea  by  splintered  cliffs  and  grey, 
Capped  by  the  thy  my  hills'  green  wind-beat  head, 
Where  'mid  the  whin  the  burrowing  rabbits  fed. 
And  'neath  the  cliff  they  saw  a  waste  of  sand, 
'Twixt  Nereus'  pasture  and  the  high  scarped  land, 
Whereon,  yet  far  off,  could  their  eyes  behold 
White  bodies  moving,  crowned  and  girt  with  gold, 
Wherefrom  it  seemed  that  lovely  music  welled. 

So  when  all  this  the  grey-eyed  queen  beheld, 
She  said:  "  0  Jason,  I  have  made  thee  wise 
In  this  and  other  things ;  turn  then  thine  eyes 
Seaward,  and  note  the  ripple  of  the  sea, 
Where  there  is  hope  as  well  as  fear  for  thee. 


200  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Nor  look  upon  the  death  that  lurketh  there 

'Neath  the  grey  cliff,  though  sweet  it  seems  and  fair ; 

For  thou  art  young  upon  this  day  to  die. 

Take  then  the  helm,  and  gazing  steadily 

Upon  the  road  to  Greece,  make  strong  thine  hand, 

And  steer  us  toward  the  lion-haunted  land  : 

And  thou,  0  Thracian  !  if  thou  ere  hast  moved 

Men's  hearts,  with  stories  of  the  Gods  who  loved, 

And  men  who  suffered,  move  them  on  this  day, 

Taking  the  deadly  love  of  death  away, 

That  even  now  is  stealing  over  them, 

While  still  they  gaze  upon  the  ocean's  hem, 

Where  their  undoing  is  if  they  but  knew." 

But  while  she  spake,  still  nigher  Argo  drew 
Unto  the  yellow  edges  of  the  shore, 
And  little  help  she  had  of  ashen  oar, 
For  as  her  shielded  side  rolled  through  the  sea, 
Silent  with  glittering  eyes  the  Minyae 
Gazed  o'er  the  surge,  for  they  were  nigh  enow 
To  see  the  gusty  wind  of  evening  blow 
Long  locks  of  hair  across  those  bodies  white, 
With  golden  spray  hiding  some  dear  delight ; 
Yea,  nigh  enow  to  see  their  red  lips  smile, 
Wherefrom  all  song  had  ceased  now  for  a  while, 
As  though  they  deemed  the  prey  was  in  the  net, 
And  they  no  more  had  need  a  bait  to  set, 
But  their  own  bodies,  fair  beyond  man's  thought, 
Underthe  grey  cliff,  hidden  not  of  aught 
But  of  such  mist  of  tears  as  in  the  eyes 
Of  those  seafaring  men  might  chance  to  rise. 

A  moment  Jason  gazed,  then  through  the  waist 
Ran  swiftly,  and  with  trembling  hands  made  haste 
To  trim  the  sail,  then  to  the  tiller  ran, 
And  thrust  aside  the  skilled  Milesian  man, 
Who  with  half-open  mouth,  and  dreamy  eyes, 


OF  JASON.  201 

Stood  steering  Argo  to  that  land  of  lies, 
But  as  he  staggered  forward,  Jason's  hand 
Hard  on  the  tiller  steered  away  from  land, 
And  as  her  head  a  little  now  fell  off 
Unto  the  wide  sea,  did  he  shout  this  scoff 
To  Thracian  Orpheus  :  "  Minstrel,  shall  we  die, 
Because  thou  hast  forgotten  utterly 
What  things  she  taught  thee  that  men  call  divine, 
Or  will  thy  measures  but  lead  folk  to  wine, 
And  scented  beds,  and  not  to  noble  deeds  ? 
Or  will  they  fail  as  fail  the  shepherd's  reeds 
Before  the  trumpet,  when  these  sea-witches 
Pipe  shrilly  to  the  washing  of  the  seas  ? 
I  am  a  man,  and  these  but  beasts,  but  thou 
Givdng  these  souls,  that  all  were  men  ere  now 
Shall  be  a  very  God  and  not  a  man  !  " 

So  spake  he  ;  but  his  fingers  Orpheus  ran 
Over  the  strings,  and  sighing  turned  away 
From  that  fair  ending  of  the  sunny  bay  ; 
But  as  his  well-skilled  hands  were  preluding 
What  his  heart  swelled  with,  they  began  to  sing 
With  pleading  voices  from  the  yellow  sands, 
Clustered  together,  with  appealing  hands 
Reached  out  to  Argo  as  she  turned  away, 
While  o'er  their  white  limbs  flew  the  flakes  of  spray, 
Since  they  spared  not  to  set  white  feet  among 
The  cold  waves  heedless  of  their  honeyed  song. 

Sweetly  they  sung,  and  still  the  answer  came^ 
Piercing  and  clear  from  him,  as  bursts  the  flame 
From  out  the  furnace  in  the  moonless  night ; 
Yet,  as  their  words  are  no  more  known  aright 
Through  lapse  of  many  ages,  and  no  man 
Can  any  more  across  the  waters  wan 
Behold  those  singing  women  of  the  sea, 
Once  more  I  pray  you  all  to  pardon  me, 

18*     ' 


202  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

If  with  my  feeble  voice  and  harsh  I  sing 
From  what  dim  memories  may  chance  to  cling 
About  men's  hearts,  of  lovely  things  once  sung 
Beside  the  sea,  while  yet  the  world  was  young. 

THE  SIRENS. 

0  happy  seafarers  are  ye, 

And  surely  all  your  ills  are  past, 

And  toil  upon  the  land  and  sea, 
Since  ye  are  brought  to  us  at  last. 

To  you  the  fashion  of  the  world, 

Wide  lands  laid  waste,  fair  cities  burned, 

And  plagues,  and  kings  from  kingdoms  hurled, 
Are  nought,  since  hither  ye  have  turned. 

For  as  upon  this  beach  we  stand, 
And  o'er  our  heads  the  sea-fowl  flit, 

Our  eyes  behold  a  glorious  land, 
And  soon  shall  ye  be  kings  of  it. 

ORPHEUS. 

A  little  more,  a  little  more, 

0  carriers  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 

A  little  labour  with  the  oar, 

Before  we  reach  the  land  of  Greece. 

E'en  now  perchance  faint  rumours  reach 

Men's  ears  of  this  our  victory, 
And  draw  them  down  unto  the  beach 

To  gaze  across  the  empty  sea. 

But  since  the  longed-for  day  is  nigh, 
And  scarce  a  Uod  could  stay  us  now, 

Why  do  ye  hang  your  heads  and  sigh, 
And  still  go  slower  and  more  slow  ? 


OF  JASON.  203 


THE  SIRENS. 

Ah,  had  ye  chanced  to  reach  the  home 
Your  fond  desires  were  set  upon, 

Into  what  troubles  had  ye  come  ! 
What  ban-en  victory  had  ye  won  ! 

But  now,  but  now,  when  ye  have  lain 

Asleep  with  us  a  little  while 
Beneath  the  washing  of  the  main, 

How  calm  shall  be  your  waking  smile  ! 

For  ye  shall  smile  to  think  of  life 

That  knows  no  troublous  change  or  fear, 

No  unavailing  bitter  strife, 

That  ere  its  time  brings  trouble  near. 

ORPHEUS. 

Is  there  some  murmur  in  your  ears, 
That  all  that  we  have  done  is  nought, 

And  nothing  ends  our  cares  and  fears, 
Till  the  last  fear  on  us  is  brought  ? 

THE  SIRENS. 

Alas  !  and  will  ye  stop  your  ears, 

In  vain  desire  to  do  aught, 
And  wish  to  live  'mid  cares  and  fears, 

Until  the  last  fear  makes  you  nought  ? 

ORPHEUS. 

Is  not  the  May  time  now  on  earth, 
When  close  against  the  city  wall 

The  folk  are  singing  in  their  mirth, 

While  on  their  heads  the  May-flowers  fall  ? 


204  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

THE  SIRENS. 

Yes,  May  is  come,  and  its  sweet  breath 
Shall  well-nigh  make  you  weep  to-day, 

And  pensive  with  swift-coming  death, 
Shall  ye  be  satiate  of  the  May. 

ORPHEUS. 

Shall  not  July  bring  fresh  delight, 
As  underneath  green  trees  ye  sit, 

And  o'er  some  damsel's  body  white 
The  noontide  shadows  change  and  flit  ? 

THE  SIRENS. 

No  new  delight  July  shall  bring 
But  ancient  fear  and  fresh  desire, 

And,  spite  of  every  lovely  thing, 
Of  July  surely  shall  ye  tire. 

ORPHEUS. 

And  now  when  August  comes  on  thee, 
And  'mid  the  golden  sea  of  corn 

The  merry  reapers  thou  mayst  see, 

Wilt  thou  still  think  the  earth  forlorn  ? 

THE  SIRENS. 

Set  flowers  on  thy  short-lived  head, 
And  in  thine  heart  forgetfulness 

Of  man's  hard  toil,  and  scanty  bread, 
And  weary  of  those  days  no  less. 

OKPIIEUS. 

Or  wilt  thou  climb  the  sunny  hill, 

In  the  October  afternoon, 
To  watch  the  purple  earth's  blood  fill 

The  grey  vat  to  the  maiden's  tune  ? 


OF   JASON  205 


THE  SIRENS. 

When  thou  beginnest  to  grow  old, 
Bring  back  remembrance  of  thy  bliss 

With  that  the  shining  cup  doth  hold, 
And  weary  helplessly  of  this. 

ORPHEUS. 

Or  pleasureless  shall  we  pass  by 

The  long  cold  night  and  leaden  day, 

That  song,  and  tale,  and  minstrelsy 
Shall  make  as  merry  as  the  May  ? 

THE  SIRENS. 

List  then,  to-night,  to  some  old  tale 
Until  the  tears  o'erflow  thine  eyes ; 

But  what  shall  all  these  things  avail, 
When  sad  to-morrow  comes  and  dies  ? 

ORPHEUS. 

And  when  the  world  is  born  again, 
And  with  some  fair  love,  side  by  side, 

Thou  wanderest  'twixt  the  sun  and  rain, 
In  that  fresh  love-begetting  tide ; 

Then,  when  the  world  is  born  again, 
And  the  sweet  year  before  thee  lies, 

Shall  thy  heart  think  of  coming  pain, 
Or  vex  itself  with  memories  ? 

THE  SIRENS. 

Ah  !  then  the  world  is  born  again 
With  burning  love  unsatisfied, 

And  new  desires  fond  and  vain, 
And  weary  days  from  tide  to  tide. 


206  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Ah  !  when  the  world  is  born  again, 
A  little  day  is  soon  gone  by, 

When  thou,  unmoved  by  sun  or  rain, 
Within  a  cold  straight  house  shall  lie. 

Therewith  they  ceased  awhile,  as  languidly 
The  head  of  Argo  fell  off  toward  the  sea, 
And  through  the  water  she  began  to  go, 
For  from  the  land  a  fitful  wind  did  blow, 
That,  dallying  with  the  many-coloured  sail, 
Would  sometimes  swell  it  out  and  sometimes  fail, 
As  nigh  the  east  side  of  the  bay  they  drew ; 
Then  o'er  the  waves  again  the  music  flew. 

THE  SIRENS. 

Think  not  of  pleasure,  short  and  vain, 
Wherewith,  'mid  days  of  toil  and  pain, 
With  sick  and  sinking  hearts  ye  strive 
To  cheat  yourselves  that  ye  may  live 
With  cold  death  ever  close  at  hand, 
Think  rather  of  a  peaceful  land, 
The  changeless  land  where  ye  may  be 
Roofed  over  by  the  changeful  sea. 

ORPHEUS. 

And  is  the  fair  town  nothing  then, 
The  coming  of  the  wandering  men 
With  that  long  talked  of  thing  and  strange, 
And  news  of  how  the  kingdoms  change, 
The  pointed  hands,  and  wondering 
At  doers  of  a  desperate  thing  ? 
Push  on,  for  surely  this  shall  be 
Across  a  narrow  strip  of  sea. 


OF  JASON.  207 

THE  SIRENS. 

Alas  !  poor  souls  and  timorous, 
Will  ye  draw  nigh  to  gaze  at  us 
And  see  if  we  are  fair  indeed  ? 
For  such  as  we  shall  be  your  meed, 
There,  where  our  hearts  would  have  you  go. 
And  where  can  the  earth-dwellers  show 
In  any  land  such  loveliness 
As  that  wherewith  your  eyes  we  bless, 
0  wanderers  of  the  Minyse, 
Worn  toilers  over  land  and  sea  ? 


ORPHEUS. 

Fair  as  the  lightning  thwart  the  sky, 
As  sun-dyed  snow  upon  the  high 
Untrodden  heaps  of  threatening  stone 
The  eagle  looks  upon  alone, 
0  fair  as  the  doomed  victim's  wreath, 
0  fair  as  deadly  sleep  and  death, 
What  will  ye  with  them,  earthly  men, 
To  mate  your  threescore  years  and  ten  ? 
Toil  rather,  suffer  and  be  free, 
Betwixt  the  green  earth  and  the  sea. 

THE  SIRENS. 

If  ye  be  bold  with  us  to  go, 
Things  such  as  happy  dreams  may  show 
Shall  your  once  heavy  eyes  behold 
About  our  palaces  of  gold ; 
Where  waters  'neath  the  waters  run, 
And  from  o'erhead  a  harmless  sun 
Gleams  through  the  woods  of  chrysolite. 


208  HUE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

There  gardens  fairer  to  the  sight 
Than  those  of  the  Phseacian  king 
Shall  ye  behold ;  and,  wondering, 
Gaze  on  the  sea-born  fruit  and  flowers, 
And  thornless  and  unchanging  bowers, 
Whereof  the  May-time  knoweth  nought. 

So  to  the  pillared  house  being  brought, 
Poor  souls,  ye  shall  not  be  alone, 
For  o'er  the  floors  of  pale  blue  stone 
All  day  such  feet  as  ours  shall  pass, 
And,  'twixt  the  glimmering  walls  of  glass, 
Such  bodies  garlanded  with  gold, 
So  faint,  so  fair,  shall  ye  behold, 
And  clean  forget  the  treachery 
Of  changing  earth  and  tumbling  sea. 

ORPHEUS. 

0  the  sweet  valley  of  deep  grass, 
Where  through  the  summer  stream  doth  pass, 
In  chain  of  shadow,  and  still  pool, 
From  misty  morn  to  evening  cool ; 
Where  the  black  ivy  creeps  and  twines 
O'er  the  dark-armed,  red-trunked  pines, 
Whence  clattering  the  pigeon  flits, 
Or,  brooding  o'er  her  thin  eggs,  sits, 
And  every  hollow  of  the  hills 
With  echoing  song  the  mavis  fills. 
There  by  the  stream,  all  unafraid, 
Shall  stand  the  happy  shepherd  maid, 
Alone  in  first  of  sunlit  hours ; 
Behind  her,  on  the  dewy  flowers, 
Her  homespun  woollen  raiment  lies, 
And  her  white  limbs  and  sweet  grey  eyes 
Shine  from  the  calm  green  pool  and  deep, 
While  round  about  the  swallows  sweep, 


OF  JASON.  209 

Not  silent ;  and  would  God  that  we, 
Like  them,  were  landed  from  the  sea. 

TUB  SIRENS. 

Shall  we  not  rise  with  you  at  night, 
Up  through  the  shimmering  green  twilight, 
That  maketh  there  our  changeless  day, 
Then  going  through  the  moonlight  grey, 
Shall  we  not  sit  upon  these  sands, 
To  think  upon  the  troublous  lands 
Long  left  behind,  where  once  ye  were, 
When  every  day  brought  change  and  fear  ? 
There,  with  white  arms  about  you  twined, 
And  shuddering  somewhat  at  the  wind 
That  ye  rejoiced  erewhile  to  meet, 
Be  happy,  while  old  stories  sweet, 
Half  understood,  float  round  your  ears, 
And  fill  your  eyes  with  happy  tears. 

Ah  !  while  we  sing  unto  you  there, 
As  now  we  sing,  with  yellow  hair 
Blown  round  about  these  pearly  limbs, 
While  underneath  the  grey  sky  swims 
The  light  shell-sailor  of  the  waves, 
And  to  our  song,  from  sea-filled  caves 
Booms  out  an  echoing  harmony, 
Shall  ye  not  love  the  peaceful  sea  ? 

ORPHEUS. 

Nigh  the  vine-covered  hillocks  green, 
In  days  agone,  have  I  not  seen 
The  brown-clad  maidens  amorous, 
Below  the  long  rose-trellised  house, 
Dance  to  the  querulous  pipe  and  shrill, 
When  the  grey  shadow  of  the  hill 
Was  lengthening  at  the  end  of  day  ? 

19 


210  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Not  shadowy  or  pale  were  they, 
But  limbed  like  those  who  'twixt  the  trees 
Follow  the  swift  of  Goddesses. 
Sunburnt  they  are  somewhat,  indeed, 
To  where  the  rough  brown  woollen  weed 
Is  drawn  across  their  bosoms  sweet, 
Or  cast  from  off  their  dancing  feet ; 
But  yet  the  stars,  the  moonlight  grey, 
The  water  wan,  the  dawn  of  day, 
Can  see  their  bodies  fair  and  white 
As  Hers,  who  once,  for  man's  delight, 
Before  the  world  grew  hard  and  old, 
Came  o'er  the  bitter  sea  and  cold ; 
And  surely  those  that  met  me  there 
Her  handmaidens  and  subjects  were ; 
And  shame-faced,  half-repressed  desire 
Had  lit  their  glorious  eyes  with  fire, 
That  maddens  eager  hearts  of  men. 
0  would  that  I  were  with  them  when 
The  risen  moon  is  gathering  light, 
And  yellow  from  the  homestead  white 
The  windows  gleam  ;  but  verily 
This  waits  us  o'er  a  little  sea. 

THE  SIRENS. 

Come  to  the  land  where  none  grows  old, 
And  none  is  rash  or  over-bold, 
Nor  any  noise  there  is  or  war, 
Or  rumour  from  wild  lands  afar, 
Or  plagues,  or  birth  and  death  of  kings ; 
No  vain  desire  of  unknown  things 
Shall  vex  you  there,  no  hope  or  fear 
Of  that  which  never  draweth  near ; 
But  in  that  lovely  land  and  still 
Ye  may  remember  what  ye  will, 
And  what  ye  will,  forget  for  aye. 


OF  JASON.  211 

So  while  the  kingdoms  pass  away, 
Ye  sea-beat  hardened  toilers  erst, 
Unresting,  for  vain  fame  athirst, 
Shall  be  at  peace  for  evermore, 
With  hearts  fulfilled  of  Godlike  lore, 
And  calm,  unwavering  Godlike  love, 
No  lapse  of  time  can  turn  or  move. 
There,  ages  after  your  fair  fleece 
Is  clean  forgotten,  yea,  and  Greece 
Is  no  more  counted  glorious, 
Alone  with  us,  alone  with  us, 
Alone  with  us,  dwell  happily, 
Beneath  our  trembling  roof  of  sea. 

ORPHEUS. 

Ah  !  do  ye  weary  of  the  strife, 
And  long  to  change  this  eager  life 
For  shadowy  and  dull  hopelessness, 
Thinking  indeed  to  gain  no  less 
Than  this,  to  die  and  not  to  die, 
To  be  as  if  ye  ae'er  had  been, 
Yet  keep  your  memory  fresh  and  green, 
To  have  no  thought  of  good  or  ill, 
Yet  keep  some  thrilling  pleasure  still  ? 
0  idle  dream  !     Ah,  verily 
If  it  shall  happen  unto  me 
That  I  have  thought  of  anything, 
When  o'er  my  bones  the  sea-fowl  sing, 
And  I  lie  dead,  how  shall  I  pine 
For  those  fresh  joys  that  once  were  mine, 
On  this  green  fount  of  joy  and  mirth, 
The  ever  young  and  glorious  earth ; 
Then,  helpless,  shall  I  call  to  mind 
Thoughts  of  the  flower-scented  wind, 
The  dew,  the  gentle  rain  at  night, 


212  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

The  wonder-working  snow  and  white, 
The  song  of  birds,  the  water's  fall, 
The  sun  that  maketh  bliss  of  all ; 
Yea,  this  our  toil  and  victory, 
The  tyrannous  and  conquered  sea. 

THE  SIRENS. 

Ah,  will  ye  go,  and  whither  then 
Will  ye  go  from  us,  soon  to  die, 

To  fill  your  threescore  years  and  ten 
With  many  an  unnamed  misery  ? 

And  this  the  wretchedest  of  all, 
That  when  upon  your  lonely  eyes 

The  last  faint  heaviness  shall  fall 
Ye  shall  bethink  you  of  our  cries. 

Come  back,  nor,  grown  old,  seek  in  vain 
To  hear  us  sing  across  the  sea ; 

Come  back,  come  back,  come  back  again, 
Come  back,  0  fearful  Minyse ! 

ORPHEUS. 

Ah,  once  again,  ah,  once  again, 

The  black  prow  plunges  through  the  sea, 

Nor  yet  shall  all  your  toil  be  vain, 
Nor  ye  forgot,  0  Minyse. 

In  such  wise  sang  the  Thracian,  in  such  wise 
Outgushed  the  Sirens'  deadly  melodies ; 
But  long  before  the  mingled  song  was  done, 
Back  to  the  oars  the  Minyre,  one  by  one, 
Slunk  silently  ;  though  many  an  one  sighed  sore, 
As  his  strong  fingers  met  the  wood  once  more, 
And  from  his  breast  the  toilsome  breathing  came. 


OF  JASON.  213 

But  as  they  laboured,  some  for  very  shame 
Hung  down  their  heads,  and  yet  amongst  them  some 
Gazed  at  the  place  whence  that  sweet  song  had  come ; 
But  round  the  oars  and  Argo's  shielded  side 
The  sea  grew  white,  and  she  began  to  glide 
Swift  through  the  waters  of  that  deadly  bay ; 
But  when  a  long  wake  now  behind  her  lay, 
And  still  the  whistle  of  the  wind  increased, 
Past  shroud  and  mast,  and  all  the  song  had  ceased, 
Butes  rose  up,  the  fair  Athenian  man, 
And  with  wild  eyes  betwixt  the  rowers  ran 
Unto  the  poop,  and  leapt  into  the  sea ; 
Then  all  men  rested  on  their  oars,  but  he 
Rose  to  the  top,  and  towards  the  shore  swam  fast. 
While  all  eyes  watched  him,  who  had  well  nigh  past 
The  place  where  sand  and  water  'gan  to  meet 
In  wreaths  and  ripples  round  the  ivory  feet, 
When  sun-burnt  swimmer,  snow-white  glancing  limb, 
And  yellow  sand  unto  their  eyes  grew  dim, 
Nor  did  they  see  their  fellow  any  more. 

But  when  they  once  again  beheld  the  shore 
The  wind  sung  o'er  the  empty  beach  and  bare, 
And  by  the  cliff  uprose  into  the  air 
A  delicate  and  glittering  little  cloud, 
That  seemed  some  many-coloured  sun  to  shroud  ; 
But  as  the  rugged  cliff  it  drew  above 
The  wondering  Minyae  beheld  it  move 
Westward,  toward  Lilybaeum  and  the  sun. 

Then  once  more  was  their  seaward  course -begun, 
And  soon  those  deadly  sands  were  far  astern, 
Nor  ever  after  could  the  heroes  learn 
If  Butes  lived  or  died  :  but  old  tales  tell 
That  as  the  tumbling  waves  he  breasted  well, 
Venus  beheld  him,  as  unseen  she  drew 
From  sunny  Cyprus  to  the  headland  blue 
Of  Lilybaeum,  where  her  temple  is ; 


214  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

She,  with  a  mind  his  sun-burnt  brows  to  kiss, 
E'en  as  his  feet  were  dropping  nigh  the  beach, 
And  ere  his  hand  the  deadly  hands  could  reach, 
Stooped,  as  the  merlin  stoops  upon  the  dove, 
And  snatched  him  thence  to  be  awhile  her  love, 
Betwixt  the  golden  pillars  of  her  shrine, 
That  those  who  pass  the  .^Egades  see  shine 
From  high-raised  Lilybseum  o'er  the  sea. 

But  far  away  the  sea-beat  Minyae 
Cast  forth  the  foam,  as  through  the  growing  night 
They  laboured  ever,  having  small  delight 
In  life  all  empty  of  that  promised  bliss, 
In  love  that  scarce  can  give  a  dying  kiss, 
In  pleasure  ending  sweet  songs  with  a  wail, 
In  fame  that  little  can  dead  men  avail, 
In  vain  toil  struggling  with  the  fateful  stream, 
In  hope,  the  promise  of  a  morning  dream. 

Yet  as  night  died,  and  the  cold  sea  and  grey 
Seemed  running  with  them  toward  the  dawn  of  day, 
Needs  must  they  once  again  forget  their  death, 
Needs  must  they,  being  alive  and  drawing  breath, 
As  men  who  of  no  other  life  can  know 
In  their  own  minds  again  immortal  grow. 

But  toward  the  south  a  little  now  they  bent, 
And  for  awhile  o'er  landless  sea  they  went, 
But  on  the  third  day  made  another  land 
At  dawn  of  day,  and  thitherward  did  stand, 
And  since  the  wind  blew  lightly  from  the  shore, 
Somewhat  abeam,  they  feared  not  with  the  oar 
To  push  across  the  shallowing  sea  and  green, 
That  washed  a  land  the  fairest  they  had  seen, 
Whose  shell-strewn  beach  at  highest  of  the  tide 
'Twixt  sea  and  flowery  shore  was  nowise  wide, 
And  drawn  a  little  backward  from  the  sea 
There  stood  a  marble  wall  wrought  cunningly, 


OF  JASON.  215 

Rosy  and  white,  set  thick  with  images, 

And  over-topped  with  heavy-fruited  trees, 

Which  by  the  shore  ran,  as  the  bay  did  bend, 

And  to  their  eyes  had  neither  gap  nor  end  ; 

Nor  any  gate  :  and  looking  over  this,, 

They  saw  a  place  not  made  for  earthly  bliss, 

Or  eyes  of  dying  men,  for  growing  there 

The  yellow  apple  and  the  painted  pear, 

And  well-filled  golden  cups  of  oranges 

Hung  amid  groves  of  pointed  cypress  trees  ; 

On  grassy  slopes  the  twining  vine-boughs  grew, 

And  hoary  olives  'twixt  far  mountains  blue, 

And  many-coloured  flowers,  like  a  cloud 

The  rugged  southern  cliffs  did  softly  shroud  ; 

And  many  a  green-necked  bird  they  saw  alight 

Within  the  slim-leaved,  thorny  pomegranate, 

That  flung  its  unstrung  rubies  on  the  grass, 

And  slowly  o'er  the  place  the  wind  did  pass 

Heavy  with  many  odours  that  it  bore 

From  thymy  hills  down  to  the  sea-beat  shore, 

Because  no  flower  there  is,  that  all  the  year, 

From  spring  to  autumn,  beareth  otherwhere, 

But  there  it  flourished  ;  nor  the  fruit  alone 

From  'twixt  the  green  leaves  and  the  boughs  outshone, 

For  there  each  tree  was  ever  flowering. 

Nor  was  there  lacking  many  a  living  thing 
Changed  of  its  nature,  for  the  roe-deer  there 
Walked  fearless  with  the  tiger,  and  the  bear 
Rolled  sleepily  upon  the  fruit-strewn  grass, 
Letting  the 'conies  o'er  his  rough  hide  pass, 
With  blinking  eyes,  that  meant  no  treachery. 
Careless  the  partridge  passed  the  red  fox  by ; 
Untouched  the  serpent  left  the  thrushes  brown, 
And  as  a  picture  was  the  lion's  frown. 

But  in  the  midst  there  was  a  grassy  space, 
Raised  somewhat  over  all  the  flowery  place, 


216  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

On  marble  terrace- walls  wrought  like  a  dream  ; 

And  round  about  it  ran  a  clear  blue  stream, 

Bridged  o'er  with  marble  steps,  and  midmost  there 

Grew  a  green  tree,  whose  smooth  grey  boughs  did  bear 

Such  fruit  as  never  man  elsewhere  has  seen, 

For  'twixt  the  sunlight  and  the  shadow  green 

Shone  out  fair  apples  of  red  gleaming  gold. 

Moreover  round  the  tree,  in  many  a  fold, 

Lay  coiled  a  dragon,  glittering  little  less 

Than  that  which  his  eternal  watchfulness 

Was  set  to  guard  ;  nor  yet  was  he  alone, 

For  from  the  daisied  grass  about  him  shone 

Gold  raiment  wrapping  round  two  damsels  fair, 

And  one  upon  the  steps  combed  out  her  hair, 

And  with  shut  eyes  sung  low  as  in  a  dream  ; 

And  one  stood  naked  in  the  cold  blue  stream, 

While  on  the  bank  her  golden  raiment  lay ; 

But  on  that  noontide  of  the  quivering  day, 

She  only,  hearing  the  seafarers'  shout, 

Her  lovely  golden  head  had  turned  about, 

And  seen  their  white  sail  flapping  o'er  the  wall, 

And  as  she  turned  had  let  her  tresses  fall, 

Which  the  thin  water  rippling  round  her  knee 

Bore  outward  from  her  toward  the  restless  sea. 

Not  long  she  stood,  but  looking  seaward  yet, 
From  out  the  water  made  good  haste  to  get, 
And  catching  up  her  raiment  hastily, 
Han  up  the  marble  stair,  and  'gan  to  cry  :  — 
"  Wake,  0  my  sisters,  wake,  for  now  are  come 
The  thieves  of  J&&  to  our  peaceful  home." 

Then  at  her  voice  they  gat  them  to  their  feet, 
And  when  her  raiment  all  her  body  sweet 
Once  more  had  hidden,  joining  hand  to  hand, 
About  the  sacred  apples  did  they  stand, 
While  coiled  the  dragon  closer  to  the  tree, 
And  raised  his  head  above  them  threateningly. 


OF  JASON.  217 

Meanwhile,  from  Argo  many  a  sea-beat  face 
Gazed  longingly  upon  that  lovely  place, 
And  some  their  eager  hands  already  laid 
Upon  the  gangway.     Then  Medea  said  :  — 
"  Get  back  unto  the  oars,  0  Minycos, 
Nor  loiter  here,  for  what  have  such  as  we 
To  do  herein,  where,  'mid  undying  trees, 
Undying  watch  the  wise  Hesperides, 
And  where,  the  while  they  watch,  scarce  can  a  God 
Set  foot  upon  the  fruit-besprinkled  sod 
That  no  snow  ever  covers '{  therefore  haste, 
Nor  yet  in  wondering  your  fair  lives  waste  ] 
For  these  are  as  the  Gods,  nor  think  of  us, 
Nor  to  their  eyes  can  aught  be  glorious 
That  son  of  man  can  do  ;  would  God  that  I 
Could  see  far  off  the  misty  headland  lie, 
Where  we  the  guilt  of  blood  shall  wash  away, 
For  I  grow  weary  of  the  dashing  spray, 
And  ceaseless  roll  of  interwoven  seas, 
And  fain  were  sitting  'neath  the  whispering  trees 
In  homely  places,  where  the  children  play, 
Who  change  like  me,  grow  old,  and  die  some  day." 

She  ceased,  and  little  soothly  did  they  grieve, 
For  all  its  loveliness,  that  land  to  leave, 
For  now  some  God  had  chilled  their  hardihead, 
And  in  their  hearts  had  set  a  sacred  dread, 
They  knew  not  why  ;  but  on  their  oars  they  hung, 
A  little  longer  as  the  sisters  sung. 

"0  ye,  who  to  this  place  have  strayed, 
That  never  for  man's  eyes  was  made^ 
Depart  in  haste,  as  ye  have  come, 
And  bear  back  to  your  sea-beat  home 
This  memory  of  the  age  of  gold, 
And  for  your  eyes,  grown  over-bold, 
Your  hearts  shall  pay  in  sorrowing, 
For  want  of  many  a  half-seen  thing. 


218  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

"  Lo,  such  as  is  this  garden  green, 
In  days  past,  all  the  world  has  been, 
And  what  we  know  all  people  knew, 
But  this,  that  unto  worse  all  grew. 

"  But  since  the  golden  age  is  gone, 
This  little  place  is  left  alone, 
Unchanged,  unchanging,  watched  of  us, 
The  daughters  of  wise  Hesperus. 

"  Surely  the  heavenly  Messenger 
Full  oft  is  fain  to  enter  here, 
And  yet  without  must  he  abide, 
Nor  longeth  less  the  dark  king's  bride 
To  set  red  lips  unto  that  fruit 
That  erst  made  nought  her  mother's  suit. 
Here  would  Diana  rest  awhile, 
Forgetful  of  her  woodland  guile, 
Among  these  beasts  that  fear  her  nought. 
Nor  is  it  less  in  Pallas'  thought, 
Beneath  our  trees  to  ponder  o'er 
The  wide,  unfathomed  sea  of  lore  ; 
And  oft-kissed  Citheraea,  no  less 
Weary  of  love,  full  oft  would  press 
These  flowers  with  unsandalled  feet. 

"  But  unto  us  our  rest  is  sweet, 
Neither  shall  any  man  or  God 
Or  lovely  Goddess  touch  the  sod 
Where-under  old  times  buried  lie, 
Before  the  world  knew  misery. 
Nor  will  we  have  a  slave  or  king, 
Nor  yet  will  we  learn  anything 
But  that  we  know,  that  makes  us  glad, 
While  oft  the  very  Gods  are  sad 
With  knowing  what  the  Fates  shall  do. 

"  Neither  from  us  shall  wisdom  go 
To  fill  the  hungering  hearts  of  men, 


OF  JASON.  219 

Lest  to  them  threescore  years  and  ten 
Come  but  to  seem  a  little  day, 
Once  given,  taken  soon  away. 
Nay,  rather  let  them  find  their  life 
Bitter  and  sweet,  fulfilled  of  strife, 
Restless  with  hope,  vain  with  regret, 
Trembling  with  fear,  most  strangely  set 
'Twixt  memory  and  forgetfulness ; 
So  more  shall  joy  be,  troubles  less  ; 
And  surely  when  all  this  is  past, 
They  shall  not  want  their  rest  at  last. 

"  Let  earth  and  heaven  go  their  way, 
While  still  we  watch  from  day  to  day, 
In  this  green  place  left  all  alone, 
A  remnant  of  the  days  long  gone." 

There  in  the  wind  they  hung,  as  word  by  word 
The  clear-voiced  singers  silently  they  heard ; 
But  when  the  air  was  barren  of  their  song, 
Anigh  the  shore  they  durst  not  linger  long, . 
So  northward  turned  forewearied  Argo's  head, 
And  dipping  oars,  from  that  fair  country  sped, 
Fulfilled  of  new  desires  and  pensive  thought, 
Which  that  day's  life  unto  their  hearts  had  brought. 

Then  hard  they  toiled  upon  the  bitter  sea, 
And  in  two  days  they  did  not  fail  to  be 
In  sight  of  land,  a  headland  high  and  blue, 
Which  straight  Milesian  Erginus  knew 
To  be  the  fateful  place  which  now  they  sought, 
Stormy  Malea  :  so  thitherward  they  brought 
The  groaning  ship,  and,  casting  anchor,  lay 
Beneath  that  headland's  lee,  within  a  bay, 
Wherefroni  the  more  part  landed,  and  their  feet 
Once  more  the  happy  soil  of  Greece  did  meet. 

Therewith  they  failed  not  to  bring  ashore 
Rich  robes  of  price  and  of  fair  arms  good  store, 


220  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  gold  and  silver,  that  they  there  might  buy 

What  yet  they  lacked  for  their  solemnity ; 

Then,  while  upon  the  highest  point  of  land 

Some  built  an  altar,  Jason,  with  a  band 

Of  all  the  chiefest  of  the  Minyse, 

Turned  inland  from  the  murmur  of  the  sea. 

Not  far  they  went  ere  by  a  little  stream 
Down  in  a  valley  they  could  see  the  gleam 
Of  brazen  pillars  and  fair-gilded  vanes, 
And,  dropping  down  by  dank  dark-wooded  lanes 
From  off  the  hill-side,  reached  a  house  at  last 
Wherein  and  out  men  slaves  and  women  passed, 
And  guests  were  streaming  fast  into  the  hall 
Where  now  the  oaken  boards  were  laid  for  all. 
With  these  the  Minyae  went,  and  soon  they  were 
Within  a  pillared  hall  both  great  and  fair, 
Where  folk  already  sat  beside  the  board, 
And  on  the  dais  was  an  ancient  lord. 

But  when  these  saw  the  fearless  Minyse 
Glittering  in  arms,  they  sprang  up  hastily, 
And  each  man  turned  about  unto  the  wall 
To  seize  his  spear  or  staff :  then  through  the  hall 
Jason  cried  out :  "  Laconians,  fear  ye  not, 
Nor  leave  the  flesh-meat  while  it  yet  is  hot 
For  dread  of  us,  for  we  are  men  as  ye, 
And  I  am  Jason  of  the  Minyae, 
And  come  from  ^Ea  to  the  land  of  Greece, 
And  in  my  ship  bear  back  the  Golden  Fleece, 
And  a  fair  Colchian  queen  to  fill  my  bed. 
And  now  we  pray  to  share  your  wine  and  bread, 
And  other  things  we  need,  and  at  our  hands 
That  ye  will  take  fair  things  of  many  lands." 

"  Sirs,"  said  the  ancient  lord,  "  be  welcome  hoi 
Come  up  and  sit  by  me,  and  make  such  cheer 
As  here  ye  can  :  glad  am  I  that  to  me 
The  first  of  Grecian  men  from  off  the  sea 
Ye  now  are  come." 


OF  JASON.  221 

Therewith  the  great  hall  rang 
With  joyful  shouts,  and  as,  with  clash  and  clang 
Of  brass  and  steel,  up  to  the  dais  they  went, 
All  eyes  upon  the  Minyse  were  bent, 
Nor  could  they  have  enough  of  wondering 
At  this  or  that  sea-tossed  victorious  king. 

So  with  the  strangers  there  they  held  high  feast, 
And  afterwards  the  slaves  drove  many  a  beast 
Down  to  the  shore,  and  carried  back  again 
Great  store  of  precious  things  in  pack  and  wain  ; 
Wrought  gold  and  silver,  gems,  full  many  a  bale 
Of  scarlet  cloth,  and  fine  silk,  fit  to  veil 
The  perfect  limbs  of  dreaded  Goddesses ; 
Spices  fresh-gathered  from  the  outland  trees, 
And  arms  well-wrought,  and  precious  scarce-known  wine, 
And  carven  images  well-nigh  divine. 

So  when  all  folk  with  these  were  satisfied, 
Back  went  the  Minyae  to  the  water-side, 
And  with  them  that  old  lord,  fain  to  behold 
Victorious  Argo  and  the  Fleece  of  Gold. 
And  so  aboard  amid  the  oars  he  lay 
Throughout  the  night,  and  at  the  dawn  of  day 
Did  all  men  land,  nor  spared  that  day  to  wear 
The  best  of  all  they  had  of  gold-wrought  gear, 
And  every  one,  being  crowned  with  olive  grey, 
Up  to  the  headland  did  they  take  their  way, 
Where  now  already  stood  the  crowned  priests 
About  the  altars  by  the  gilt-horned  beasts. 
There,  as  the  fair  sun  rose,  did  Jason  break 
Over  the  altar  the  thin  barley-cake, 
And  cast  the  salt  abroad,  and  there  were  slain 
The  milk-white  bulls,  and  there  red  wine  did  rain 
On  to  the  fire  from  out  the  ancient  jar, 
And  high  rose  up  the  red  flame,  seen  afar 
From  many  another  headland  of  that  shore, 
And  through  its  fitful  crackling  and  its  roar, 


222  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

From  time  to  time  in  pleading  song  and  prayer, 
Swept  by  the  wind  about  the  summer  air, 
Clear  rung  the  voices  of  the  Minyae 
Unto  the  dashing  of  the  conquered  sea, 
That  far  below  thrust  on  by  tide  and  wind 
The  crumbling  bases  of  the  headland  mined. 


BOOK    XV. 

BUT  on  the  morrow  did  the  Minyre 
Turn  Argo's  head  once  more  to  Thessaly, 
And  surely  now  the  steersman  knew  his  way, 
As  island  after  island  every  day 
They  coasted,  with  a  soft  land-wind  abeam  ; 
And  now  at  last  like  to  a  troubled  dream 
Seemed  all  the  strange  things  they  had  seen  erewhilc, 
Now  when  they  knew  the  very  green  sea's  smile 
Beneath  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun, 
And  their  return  they  surely  now  had  won 
To  those  familiar  things  long  left  behind, 
When  on  their  sails  hard  drave  the  western  wind. 

So  past  Euboea  did  they  run  apace, 
And  swept  with  oars  the  perilous  green  race 
Betwixt  Cerinthus  and  the  islands  white  ; 
But,  when  they  now  had  doubled  that  dread  height, 
The  shields  that  glittered  upon  Argo's  side 
They  drew  inboard,  and  made  a  shift  to  hide 
Her  golden  eye  and  gleaming  braveries, 
And  heaped  the  deck  witli  bales  of  merchandise, 
And  on  their  yards  sails  patched  and  brown  they  bent, 
And  crawling  slowly,  with  six  oars  they  went, 
Till  Argo  seemed  like  M»me  Phoenician 
Grown  old  and  leaky,  on  the  water  wan. 


OF  JASON.  223 

Now  at  the  entering  of  their  own  green  bay 
There  lies  an  island  that  men  call  to-day 
Green  Cicynethus,  low,  and  covered  o'er 
With  close-set  trees,  and  distant  from  the  shore 
But  some  five  furlongs,  and  a  shallow  sea 
'Twixt  main  and  island  ripples  languidly, 
And  on  the  shore  there  dwells  not  any  man 
For  many  a  mile ;  so  there  Erginus  ran 
Argo  disguised,  and  steering  skilfully, 
Cast  anchor  with  the  island  on  his  lea ; 
Hid  from  the  straits,  and  there  struck  sail  and  mast ; 
Then  to  the  island  shore  the  heroes  past, 
And  with  their  wide  war-axes  'gan  to  lop 
Full  many  a  sapling  with  green-waving  top 
And  full-leaved  boughs  of  spreading  maple-trees, 
And  covered  Argo's  seaward  side  with  these. 
And  then  the  shipmen  did  Medea  bid 
To  hold  a  shallop  ready,  while  she  hid 
Her  lovely  body  in.  a  rough  grey  gown 
And  heavy  home-spun  mantle  coarse  and  brown, 
And  round  about  her  a  great  wallet  slung, 
And  to  her  neck  an  uncouth  image  hung 
Of  Tauric  Artemis,  the  cruel  maid. 

Then,  all  being  ready,  to  the  prince  she  said :  — 
"  0  well-beloved,  amongst  our  foes  I  go 
Alone  and  weak,  nor  do  I  surely  know 
If  I  shall  live  or  die  there ;  but  do  thou 
Keep  a  watch  ever,  who  from  off  the  prow 
Shall  look  towards  white  lolchos  o'er  the  bay, 
And  watching,  wait  until  the  seventh  day, 
And  if  no  sign  thou  hast  from  me  by  then, 
Believe  me  slain  at  hands  of  wicked  men, 
Or  shut  in  some  dark  prison  at  the  least, 
While  o'er  my  head  thy  foe  holds  royal  feast. 

"  Then  soothly  if  it  lieth  in  thine  heart 
To  leave  this  land  untouched,  do  thou  thy  part ; 


224  THE    LIFE  AND 

Yet  do  I  think  thou  wilt  be  man  enow 

Unto  the  white-walled  town  to  turn  thy  prow, 

And  either  die  a  man  or  live  a  king, 

Honoured  of  all,  nor  lacking  anything 

But  me  thy  love  —  whom  thou  wilt  soon  forget, 

When  with  thy  tears  my  lone  tomb  has  been  wet 

A  little  space ; —  so  be  it,  do  thy  will. 

And  of  all  good  things  mayst  thou  have  thy  fill 

Before  thou  comest  to  the  shadowy  land 

Where  thou  wilt  strive  once  more  to  touch  mine  hand, 

And  have  no  power  e'en  to  meet  these  eyes 

That  for  thy  love  shall  see  such  miseries." 

She  ceased,  nigh  weeping,  but  he  wept  indeed, 
Such  tears  as  come  to  men  in  utmost  need, 
When  all  words  fail  them,  and  the  world  seems  gone, 
And  with  their  love  they  fill  the  earth  alone, 
Careless  of  shame,  and  not  remembering  death. 

But  she  clung  round  about  him,  with  her  breath 
Shortened  with  sobs,  as  she  began  to  say :  — 
"  Weep  not,  0  love,  for  surely  many  a  day 
May  we  be  merry  and  forget  all  ill, 
Nor  have  I  yet  forgotten  all  my  skill, 
And  ere  the  days  are  gone  thou  well  mayst  see 
Thy  deadly  foe  brought  unto  nought  by  me. 
And  if  indeed  the  Gods  give  me  the  day, 
Then  shall  thy  wakeful  watch  see  o'er  the  bay 
Smoke  in  the  day-time,  red  flame  in  the  night, 
Kise  o'er  lolchos'  well-built  walls  and  white ; 
Then  linger  not,  but  run  out  every  oar, 
And  hasten  toward  the  many-peopled  shore 
That  is  thine  own  henceforth,  as  I  am  thine." 

Therewith  from  him  she  turned  her  face  divine, 
And  reached  the  shallop  over  Argo's  side, 
That  o'er  the  shallows  soon  began  to  glide, 
Driven  by  arms  of  strong  Kurydamas, 
But  when  the  keel  dragged  on  the  rank  sea-grass, 


OF  JASON.  225 

She  stepped  ashore,  and  back  the  hero  turned 
Unto  his  fellows,  who,  with  hearts  that  burned, 
Unto  the  quays  to  bring  great  Argo's  stein, 
And  gain  the  glory  that  was  waiting  them, 
Watched  ever  for  the  sign  across  the  bay, 
Till  nigh  the  dawning  of  the  seventh  day. 

But  from  the  shore  unto  a  thick-leaved  wood 
Medea  turned,  drawing  both  cloak  and  hood 
Right  close  about  her,  lest  perchance  some  man, 
Some  hind,  or  fisher  in  the  water  wan, 
Should  wonder  at  her  visage,  that  indeed 
Seemed  little  worthy  of  that  wretched  weed. 

In  that  thick  wood  a  little  stream  there  was, 
That  here  was  well-nigh  hidden  of  the  grass, 
And  there  swelled  into  pools  both  clear  and  deep, 
Wherein  the  images  of  trees  did  sleep, 
For  it  was  noontide  of  the  summer  day. 
To  such  a  pool  Medea  took  her  way, 
And  reaching  it,  upon  the  grass  laid  down 
Her  rough  grey  homespun  cloak  and  wallet  brown ; 
And  when  her  eyes  had  swept  the  space  around, 
Undid  her  tunic,  that  upon  the  ground 
Fell  huddled  round  her  feet ;  nor  did  she  spare 
To  strip  the  linen  from  her  body  fair, 
And  shoes  from  off  her  feet ;  then  she  drew  near 
The  flowery  edges  of  the  streamlet  clear, 
And  gazing  down  upon  her  image,  stood, 
Hearkening  the  drowsy  murmur  of  the  wood ; 
And  since  the  wind  was  hushed  that  noon  of  day, 
And  moveless  down  her  tack  the  long  locks  lay, 
Her  very  self  an  image  seemed  to  be, 
Wrought  in  some  wondrous  faint-hued  ivory, 
Carved  by  a  master  among  cunning  men. 

So  still  she  stood,  that  the  quick  water-hen 
Noted  her  not,  as  through  the  blue  mouse-ear 

20* 


226  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

He  made  his  way ;  the  conies  drew  anear, 
Nibbling  the  grass,  and  from  an  oak-twig  nigh 
A  thrush  poured  forth  his  song  unceasingly. 

But  in  a  while,  sighing,  she  turned  away, 
And,  going  up  to  where  the  wallet  lay, 
She  opened  it,  and  thence  a  phial  drew 
That  seemed  to  be  well  wrought  of  crystal  blue, 
Which  when  she  had  unstopped,  therefrom  she  poured 
Into  the  hollow  of  an  Indian  gourd 
A  pale  green  liquor,  wherefrotn  there  arose 
Such  scent  as  o'er  some  poisonous  valley  blows, 
Where  nought  but  dull-scaled  twining  serpents  dwell, 
Nor  any  more  now  could  the  Colchian  smell 
The  water-mint,  the  pine-trees,  or  the  flower 
Of  the  heaped-up  sweet  odorous  virgin's  bower. 

But  shuddering,  and  with  lips  grown  pale  and  wan, 
She  took  the  gourd,  and  with  shut  eyes  began 
Therefrom  her  body  to  anoint  all  o'er ; 
And  this  being  done,  she  turned  not  any  more 
Unto  the  woodland  brook,  but,  hurrying, 
Drew  on  her  raiment,  and  made  haste  to  sling 
Her  wallet  round  about  her,  nor  forgot 
The  Tauric  image,  ere  the  lovely  spot 
She  left  unto  the  rabbit  and  the  roe. 

And  now  straight  toward  lolchos  did  she  go, 
But  as  she  went,  a  hideous,  fearful  change 
Had  come  on  her  ;  from  sunken  eyes  and  strange 
She  gazed  around  ;  white  grew  her  golden  hair, 
And  seventy  years  her  body  seemed  to  bear ; 
As  though  the  world  that  coppice  had  passed  by 
For  half  an  age,  and  caught  her  presently, 
When  from  its  borders  once  her  foot  had  passed. 

Then  she  began  to  murmur,  as  she  cast 
From  changed  eyes  glances  on  her  wrinkled  hands : 
'*  0  Jason  !  surely  not  for  many  lands, 


OF   JASON.  227 

Rich  and  gold-bearing  lands,  would  I  do  this ; 
But  yet  with  tliee  to  gain  good  peace  and  bliss 
Far  greater  things  would  I  have  done  to-day." 

So  saying,  she  made  haste  upon  her  way, 
Until  at  last,  when  it  was  well-nigh  night, 
She  reached  the  city  crowned  with  towers  white, 
And  passing  by  the  brazen  gates  of  it, 
Forewearied,  by  a  fountain  did  she  sit ; 
Where,  as  she  waited,  came  an  ancient  crone, 
Who,  groaning,  set  her  pitcher  on  the  stone, 
And,  seeing  the  Colchian,  asked  her  what  she  was. 

"  Mother,"  Medea  said,  "  I  strive  to  pass 
Unto  fair  Athens,  where  dwelt  long  ago 
My  fathers,  if  perchance  folk  yet  may  know 
Where  they  lie  buried,  that  on  that  same  stone 
I  may  lie  down  and  die  ;  a  hapless  one, 
Whom  folk  once  called  Aglaia,  once  called  fair ; 
For  years,  long  years  agone,  my  golden  hair 
Went  down  the  wind,  as  carelessly  I  strayed 
Along  the  wet  sea-beach,  of  nought  afraid, 
And  there  my  joy  was  ended  suddenly, 
For  on  me  fell  the  rovers  of  the  sea, 
And  bore  me  bound  into  the  land  of  Thrace, 
Arid  thence  to  some  unnamed,  far  northern  place, 
Where  I,  a  rich  man's  daughter,  learned  to  bear 
Fetters  and  toil  and  scourging  year  by  year  ; 
Till  it  has  happed  unto  me  at  the  last, 
Now  that  my  strength  for  toil  is  overpast, 
That  I  am  free  once  more,  if  that  is  aught, 
Whom  in  all  wretched  places  death  has  sought, 
And  surely  now  will  find  —  but  wilt  thou  give 
Some  resting-place  to  me,  that  I  may  live 
Until  I  come  to  Athens  and  my  grave  V 
And  certainly,  though  nought  of  gold  I  have, 
In  the  far  northland  did  I  gather  lore 
Of  this  and  that  amid  my  labour  sore  ; 


228  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  chiefly  of  this  Goddess,  rites  I  know, 
Whose  image  round  my  neck  thou  seest  now, 
Well-shod  Diana  —  and  a  whispered  word 
Within  her  inmost  temple  once  I  heard 
Concerning  this  :  how  men  may  grow  to  be 
E'en  as  the  Gods,  and  gain  eternity, 
And  how  the  work  of  years  may  be  undone." 

When  she  had  finished,  the  Thessalian  crone, 
Filling  her  jar  with  water,  turned  and  said  :  — 

"  Surely,  Athenian,  I  am  sore  afraid, 
Ere  thou  hast  learned  thy  lesson  utterly, 
And  gained  that  new  life,  thou  thyself  wilt  die  ; 
Nor  will  it  profit  me,  who  am  a  slave 
Wishing  for  death,  a  wretched  life  to  save  : 
But  hearken  now,  if  thou  art  wise  and  bold, 
Then  will  I  show  thee  how  thou  mayst  earn  gold 
And  thanks  enow,  by  telling  this  thy  tale 
Unto  rich  folk,  for  them  will  it  avail 
To  know  thy  secret ;  rise,  and  come  with  me, 
And  the  king's  daughters  surely  shalt  thou  see  ; 
For  on  my  road  from  nothing  unto  hell 
His  palace  is  the  last  lodge  where  I  dwell, 
And  I  am  well  aweary  of  it  now, 
And  of  my  toil,  thanked  with  hard  word  and  blow." 

"  I  thank  thee,  mother,"  said  the  Colchian  maid, 
"  Nor  of  king's  daughters  shall  I  be  afraid, 
Whose  ears  Latona's  daughter  erst  have  heard, 
Nor  trembled  at  the  heavy  dreadful  word." 

Then  on  they  passed,  and,  as  they  went,  the  crone 
Told  her  how  2Eson  unto  death  was  done, 
And  of  the  news  that  thither  had  been  brought 
Of  those  that  o'er  the  sea  that  glory  sought. 
Namely,  that  when  .^Eetes  had  been  fain 
To  trap  the  Argo,  all  had  been  in  vain, 
Yet  had  he  gone  back  well-nigh  satisfied  ; 


OF  JASON.  229 

For  in  the  night  to  him  a  voice  had  cried 
Louder  and  clearer  than  a  mortal  can  :  — 
"  Go  back  to  ^Ea,  sun-begotten  man, 
And  there  forget  thy  daughter  and  thy  fleece, 
But  yet  be  merry,  for  the  thieves  of  Greece 
Shall  live  no  longer  than  a  poor  wretch  may 
Who  lies  unholpen  on  a  lonely  way 
Wounded,  possessing  nought  but  many  woes,  — 
Lo,  thus  it  happeneth  now  unto  thy  foes  ! ' 

This,  said  the  crone,  a  Colchian  had  told 
To  Pelias,  dweller  in  the  house  of  gold, 
And  had  large  gifts  from  him  ;  who  when  he  knew 
The  certainty  of  this,  old  jEson  slew 
With  all  his  house  who  at  lolchos  were. 

"  So,"  said  she,  "  if,  for  quieting  his  fear 
Of  the  sea-rover,  such  things  he  did  give, 
What  would  his  gifts  be  if  thou  mad'st  him  live 
His  life  again,  with  none  of  all  his  name 
Alive,  to  give  him  fear  of  death  or  shame  ?  " 
With  that  they  came  unto  the  royal  house 
Where  Pelias  dwelt,  grown  old  and  timorous, 
Oppressed  with  blood  of  those  that  he  had  slain, 
Desiring  wealth  and  longer  life  in  vain. 

So  there  a  court  low-built  the  old  crone  sought, 
And  to  her  lodging  the  tired  Colchian  brought, 
Where  she  might  sleep,  and  gave  her  food  and  drink. 
Then  into  sleep  did  wise  Medea  sink, 
And  dreamed  that  she  herself,  made  ever  young, 
Gold-robed  within  some  peaceful  garden  sung, 
Like  that  where  sung  the  wise  Hesperides. 
But  as  she  walked  between  the  smooth-stemmed  trees 
She  saw  the  sea  rise  o'er  the  marble  wall, 
And,  rolling  o'er,  drown  grass  and  flowers  and  all, 
And  draw  on  towards  her,  who  no  whit  could  move, 
Though  from  the  high  land  Jason,  her  own  love, 
Was  shouting  out  to  her;  so  then,  at  last, 


230  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

She  dreamed  the  waters  over  all  had  passed 
And  reached  her  feet,  and  o'er  her  coldly  swept, 
And  still  undrowned,  beneath  the  waves  she  wept, 
And  still  was  Jason  shouting  to  her  there. 

Therewith  she  woke,  and  felt  the  morning  air 
Cold  on  her  face,  because  the  ancient  crone 
Over  her  couch  the  casement  had  undone. 
And  as  she  oped  her  eyes,  she  heard  her  say  :  — 
"  Awake,  0  guest,  for  yet  another  day 
We  twain  must  bear  before  we  gain  our  rest. 
But  now  indeed  I  think  it  to  be  best 
That  to  my  ladies  I  alone  should  show 
That  prayers,  and  rites,  and  wonders  thou  dost  know, 
Which  thou  wilt  tell  for  gold  ;  for  sure  I  deem 
That  to  us  dying  folk  nought  good  doth  seem, 
But  hoarding  for  the  years  we  shall  not  see. 
So  bide  thou  there,  and  I  will  come  to  thee 
And  bring  thee  word  of  what  the  queens  may  say." 

Then  with  these  words  she  went  upon  her  way, 
While  in  her  place  alone  Medea  sat, 
With  eager  heart,  thinking  of  this  or  that, 
And  wishing  that  the  glorious  day  were  come, 
When  she  should  set  her  love  within  his  home, 
A  king  once  more.     So,  'mid  these  thoughts,  there  came 
Back  to  the  place  the  wise  Thessalian  dame, 
Who  bade  her  rise  and  after  her  to  go, 
That  she  those  marvels  to  the  queens  might  show. 

Therewith  she  brought  her  to  a  chamber  where 
Abode  the  royal  maidens  slim  and  fair, 
All  doing  well-remembered  works  ;  of  whom 
White-armed  Alcestis  sat  before  the  loom, 
Casting  the  shuttle  swift  from  hand  to  hand. 
The  while  Eradne's  part  it  was  to  stand 
Amongst  the  maids  who  carded  out  the  wool 
And  filled  the  gleaming  ivory  shuttles  full. 


OF  JASON.  231 

Ampliinome,  meantime,  her  golden  head 
Bent  o'er  the  spinners  of  the  milk-white  thread, 
And  by  the  growing  web  still  set  aside 
The  many-coloured  bundles  newly  dyed, 
Blood-red,  and  heavenly  blue,  and  grassy  green, 
Yea,  and  more  colours  than  man  yet  has  seen 
In  flowery  meadows  midmost  of  the  May. 

Then  to  the  royal  maids  the  crone  'gan  say  :  — 
"  Behold  the  woman,  0  my  mistresses, 
Who  'midst  the  close-set  gloomy  northern  trees 
Has  late  learned  that  I  told  you  of ;  and  ye 
Who  in  this  royal  house  live  happily, 
May  well  desire  life  for  evermore, 
Which  unto  me  were  but  a  burden  sore." 

Therewith  she  left  them,  but  folk  say,  indeed, 
That  she  who  spoke  was  nought  but  Saturn's  seed, 
In  very  likeness  of  that  woman  old, 
Whose  body  soon  folk  came  on,  dead  and  cold 
Within  the  place  where  she  was  wont  to  dwell. 
Now  how  these  things  may  be,  I  cannot  tell, 
But  certainly  Queen  Juno's  will  was  good 
To  finish  that  which,  in  the  oaken  wood 
Anigh  the  Centaur's  cave,  she  first  began, 
Giving  good  heart  to  the  strange-nurtured  man. 


0    O 


But,  she  being  gone,  fair-limbed  Amphinome 
Said  :   "  Reverend  mother,  welcome  here  ye  be, 
And  in  return  for  thy  so  hard-earned  lore 
That  thou  wilt  teach  us,  surely  nevermore 
Shalt  thou  do  labour  whilst  thou  dwellest  here, 
But  unto  us  shalt  thou  be  lief  and  dear 
As  though  thou  wert  the  best  of  all  our  blood." 

Hut,  pondering  awhile,  Medea  stood, 
Then  answered  :  "  Lady,  I  am  now  grown  old, 
And  but  small  gifts  to  me  were  heaps  of  gold, 
Or  rest  itself,  for  that  the  tomb  shall  give  ; 


232  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

I  say,  all  things  are  nought,  unless  I  live 

So  long  henceforward,  that  I  need  not  think 

When  into  nothing  I  at  last  must  sink ; 

But  take  me  now  unto  the  mighty  king 

That  rules  this  land,  and  there,  by  everything 

That  he  holds  sacred,  let  him  swear  to  me 

That  I  shall  live  in  peace  and  liberty 

Till  quiet  death  upon  my  head  is  brought ; 

But  this  great  oath  being  made,  things  shall  be  wrought 

By  me,  that  never  can  be  paid  with  gold ; 

For  I  will  make  that  young  which  has  grown  old, 

And  that  alive  that  ye  have  seen  lie  dead." 

Then  much  they  wondered  at  the  words  she  said, 
And  from  the  loom  did  fair  Alcestis  rise, 
And  tali  Amphinome  withdrew  her  eyes 
From  the  fair  spinners,  and  Eradne  left 
The  carding  of  the  fine  wool  for  the  weft. 
Then  said  Eradne  :   "  Mother,  fear  not  thou, 
Surely  our  father  is  good  man  enow, 
And  will  not  harm  thee  :  natheless,  he  will  swear 
By  whatsoever  thing  he  holdeth  dear, 
Nor  needst  thou  have  a  doubt  of  him  at  all. 
Come,  for  he  sitteth  now  within  the  hall." 

With  that,  she  took  her  shoes  from  off  the  ground, 
And  round  her  feet  the  golden  strings  she  bound, 
As  did  her  sisters,  and  fair  cloaks  they  threw 
About  them,  and  their  royal  raiment  drew 
Through  golden  girdles,  gemmed  and  richly  wrought, 
And  forth  with  them  the  Colchian  maid  they  brought. 
But  as  unto  the  royal  hall  they  turned, 
Within  their  hearts  such  hot  desire  burned 
For  lengthening  out  the  life  they  knew  so  sweet, 
That  scarce  they  felt  the  ground  beneath  their  feet, 
And  through  the  marble  court  long  seemed  the  way. 

But  when  they  reached  the  place,  glittering  and  gay 
With  all  the  slain  man's  goods,  and  saw  the  king 


OF  JASON.  233 

Wearing  his  royal  crown  and  mystic  ring, 

And  clad  in  purple,  and  his  wearied  face, 

Anxious  and  cruel,  gaze  from  ^Eson's  place, 

A  little  thing  it  seemed  to  slay  him  there, 

As  one  might  slay  the  lion  in  his  lair, 

Bestrewn  with  bones  of  beast,  and  man,  and  maid. 

Then  as  he  turned  to  them,  Alcestis  said  :  — 
"  0  lord  and  father,  here  we  bring  to  thee 
A  wise  old  woman,  come  from  over  sea, 
Who  'mid  the  gloomy,  close-set  northern  trees 
Has  heard  the  words  of  reverend  Goddesses 
I  dare  not  name  aloud  ;  therefore  she  knows 
Why  this  thing  perishes,  and  that  thing  grows, 
And  what  to  unborn  creatures  must  befall, 
And  this,  the  very  chiefest  thing  of  all, 
To  make  the  old  man  live  his  life  again, 
And  all  the  lapse  of  years  but  nought  and  vain  ; 
But  we,  when  these  strange  things  of  her  we  heard, 
Trembled  before  her,  and  were  sore  afeard, 
In  'midst  of  all  our  measureless  desire 
Within  thy  veins  and  ours  to  set  new  fire, 
And  with  thee  live  for  many  a  happy  day, 
Whilst  all  about  us  passes  soon  away." 

Now  paler  grew  the  king's  face  at  this  word, 
And 'mid  strange  hopes  he,  too,  grew  sore  afeard, 
As,  sighing,  he  began  to  think  of  days, 
Now  long  gone  by,  when  he  was  winning  praise, 
And  thought :  "  If  so  be  I  should  never  die, 
Then  would  I  lay  aside  all  treachery, 
And  here  should  all  folk  live  without  alarm, 
For  to  no  man  would  I  do  any  harm, 
Whatso  might  hap,  but  I  would  bring  again 
The  golden  age,  free  from  all  fear  and  pain." 

But  through  his  heart  there  shot  a  pang  of  fear, 
As  to  the  queen  he  said :  "  Why  art  thou  here, 
Since  thou  hast  mastered  this  all-saving  art, 

21 


234  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Keeping  but  vagrant  life  for  thine  own  part, 
Of  what  thou  boastest  with  the  Gods  to  share, 
Thou,  but  a  dying  woman,  nowise  fair?  " 

"  Pelias,"  she  said,  "  far  from  the  north  I  come, 
But  in  Erectheus'  city  was  my  home, 
Where  being  alone,  upon  a  luckless  day, 
By  the  sea-rovers  was  I  snatched  away, 
And  in  their  long-ship,  with  bound,  helpless  hands, 
Was  brought  to  Thrace,  and  thence  to  northern  lands, 
Of  one  of  which  I  scarcely  know  the  name, 
Nor  could  your  tongue  the  uncouth  letters  frame. 
There  had  I  savage  masters,  and  must  learn 
With  aching  back  to  bend  above  the  quern  ; 
There  must  I  learn  how  the  poor  craftsman  weaves, 
Nor  earn  his  wages ;  and  the  barley-sheaves 
Must  bind  in  August ;  and  across  the  snow, 
Unto  the  frozen  river  must  I  go, 
When  the  white  winter  lay  upon  the  land, 
And  therewithal  must  I  dread  many  a  hand, 
And  writhe  beneath  the  whistle  of  the  whip. 

"  'Mid  toils  like  these  my  youth  from  me  did  slip, 
Uncomforted,  through  lapse  of  wretched  years, 
Till  I  forgot  the  use  of  sobs  and  tears, 
And  like  a  corpse  about  my  labour  went, 
Grown  old  before  my  time,  and  worn  and  bent. 
And  then  at  last  this  good  to  me  betid, 
That  my  wise  mistress  strove  to  know  things  hid 
From  mortal  men,  and  doubted  all  the  rest, 
Babblers  and  young,  who  in  our  fox's  nest 
Dwelt  through  the  hideous  changes  of  the  year ; 
Then  me  she  used  to  help  her,  and  so  dear 
I  grew,  that  when  upon  her  tasks  she  went, 
Into  all  dangerous  service  was  I  sent ; 
And  many  a  time,  within  the  woods  alone, 
Have  1  sat  watching  o'er  the  heaps  of  stone 
Where  dwell  the  giants  dead ;  and  many  a  time 


OF  JASON,  235 

Have  my  pale  lips  uttered  the  impious  rhyme 
That  calls  the  dead  from  their  unchanged  abode ; 
Till  on  my  soul  there  lay  a  heavy  load 
Of  knowledge,  not  without  reward,  for  I 
No  longer  went  in  rags  and  misery, 
But  in  such  bravery  as  there  they  had 
My  toil-worn  body  now  was  fairly  clad, 
And  feared  by  man  and  maid  did  I  become, 
And  mistress  of  my  mistress'  dreary  home. 

"  Moreover,  whether  that,  being  dead  to  fear, 
All  things  I  noted,  or  that  somewhat  dear 
I  now  was  grown  to  those  dread  Goddesses, 
I  know  not,  yet  amidst  the  haunted  trees 
More  things  I  learned  than  my  old  mistress  did, 
Yea,  some  things  surely  from  all  folk  else  hid, 
Whose  names  once  spoken  would  unroof  this  hall, 
And  lay  lolchos  underneath  a  pall 
Of  quick  destruction  ;  and  when  these  were  learned, 
At  last  my  mistress  all  her  wage  had  earned, 
And  to  the  world  was  dead  for  evermore. 

"  But  me  indeed  the  whole  house  hated  sore, 
First  for  my  knowledge,  next  that,  sooth  to  say, 
I,  when  I  well  had  passed  my  evil  day, 
And  came  to  rule,  spared  not  my  fellows  aught ; 
Whereby  this  fate  upon  my  head  was  brought, 
That  flee  I  must  lest  worse  should  hap  to  me ; 
So  on  my  way  unto  the  Grecian  sea 
With  weary  heart  and  manifold  distress, 
My  feet  at  last  thy  royal  pavement  press. 
My  lips  beseech  thy  help,  0  mighty  King  ! 
Help  me,  that  I  myself  may  do  the  thing 
I  most  desire,  and  this  great  gift  give 
To  tliee  and  thine,  from  this  time  forth  to  live 
In  youth  and  beauty  while  the  world  goes  by 
With  all  its  vain  desires  and  misery. 


236  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

11  And  if  thou  doubtest  still,  then  hear  me  say 
The  words  thou  spak'st  upon  a  long-past  day, 
When  thou  wert  fearful,  and  the  half-shod  man 
Had  come  upon  thce  through  the  water  wan." 

She  ceased  awhile,  and  therewith  Pelias, 
With  open  mouth  and  eyes  as  fixed  as  glass 
Stared  at  her,  wondering.      Then  again  she  said  :  — 
"  Awhile  ago,  when  he  thou  knowest  dead, 
And  he  thou  thinkest  dead,  were  by  thy  side, 
A  c  rafty  wile  thou  forgcdst ;  at  that  tide 
Telling  the  tale  of  Theban  Athamas, 
And  how  that  Phryxus  dead  at  ^Ea  was. 
Thinking  (and  not  in  vain)  to  light  the  fire 
Of  glorious  deeds,  and  measureless  desire 
Of  fame  within  the  hearts  of  men  o'erbold. 

"  For  thus  thou  saidst :  '  So  is  the  story  told 
Of  things  that  happened  forty  years  agone, 
Nor  of  the  Greeks  has  there  been  any  one 
To  set  the  bones  of  Phryxus  in  a  tomb, 
Or  meet  out  to  the  Colchian  his  due  doom.' 

"  So  saidst  thou  then,  and  by  such  words  didst  drive 
Thy  nephew  in  a  hopeless  game  to  strive, 
Wherefore  thou  deemest  wisely  he  is  dead, 
And  all  the  words  that  he  can  say  are  said." 

"  She  ceased  again,  while  pale  and  shuddering, 
Across  his  eyes  the  crafty,  fearful  king 
Drew  trembling  hands.     But  yet  again  she  spoke  :  — 
"  What  if  the  Gods  by  me  the  strong  chain  broke 
Of  thy  past  deeds,  ill  deeds  wrought  not  in  vain, 
And  thou  with  new  desires  lived  again  V 
Durst  I  still  trust  thee  with  my  new-gained  life  ? 
Who  for  the  rest  am  not  thy  brother's  wife, 
Thy  nephew,  or  thy  brother.     Be  it  so. 
Yet  since  the  foolish  hearts  of  men  I  know, 
Swear  on  this  image  of  great  Artemis 
That  unto  me  thy  purpose  harmless  is, 


OF  JASON.  237 

Nor  wilt  thou  do  me  hurt,  or  more  or  less  ; 
Then  while  thy  lips  the  ivory  image  press, 
Will  I  call  down  all  terrors  that  I  know 
Upon  thine  head  if  thou  shouldst  break  thy  vow. 


"Yet 
Or  wilt 


for  thyself  dost  thou  trust  what  I  say, 
thou  still  be  dying  day  by  day  'I ' ' 


"  Yea,"  said  the  king,  "  yea,  whosoe'er  thou  art, 
Needs  must  I  trust  thee,  in  such  wise  my  heart 
Desires  life  again  when  this  is  done. 
Give  me  the  image,  0  thou  fearful  one, 
Who  knowest  all  my  life,  who  in  the  breath 
Wherein  thou  prayest  help  still  threatenest  death." 

Then  on  the  image  did  she  swear  the  king, 
Bat  while  he  spoke  was  she  still  muttering, 
With  glittering  eyes  fixed  on  him  ;  but  at  last, 
When  from  his  lips  the  dreadful  word  had  passed, 
She  said  :   "  0  King,  pray  that  thou  mayst  not  die 
Before  the  fifth  day's  sun  has  risen  high  ; 
Yet  on  to-morrow  morn  shalt  thou  behold 
This  hair  of  mine  all  glittering  as  gold, 
My  tottering  feet  firm  planted  on  the  ground, 
My  grey  and  shrivelled  arms  grown  white  and  round, 
As  once,  when  by  Ilissus'  side  I  trod, 
A  snare  of  beauty  to  a  very  God, 
To  young  men's  eyes  a  fierce  consuming  fire." 

So  saying,  did  she  kindle  fresh  desire 
In  the  king's  fainting  heart,  until  he  thought  — 
"  Nay,  if  new  life  hereby  to  me  is  brought, 
Withal  there  may  be  brought  a  lovely  mate 
To  share  my  happy  days  and  scorn  of  fate." 
Then  did  he  bid  his  daughters  straight  to  go 
With  that  wise  woman,  nor  spare  aught  to  do 
That  she  might  bid  them,  and  they  wondering, 
But  in  their  hearts  yet  fearful  of  the  thing, 

21* 


238  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Unto  the  women's  chamber  led  her  back, 
And  bade  her  say  what  matters  she  might  lack. 

Then  little  did  she  ask  unto  her  need, 
But  fair  cold  water,  and  some  fitting  weed, 
And  in  a  close-shut  place  to  be  alone, 
Because  no  eye  must  see  the  wonder  done. 

And  "  Oh,"  she  said,  "fair  women,  haste  ye  now, 
For  surely  weaker  every  hour  I  grow, 
And  fear  to  die  ere  I  can  live  again." 
Then  through  the  house  they  hastened,  and  with  pain 
A  brazen  caldron  their  fair  hands  bore  up, 
As  well  wrought  over  as  a  king's  gold  cup. 
Which  in  a  well-hung  chamber  did  they  set, 
And  filled  with  clear  cold  water,  adding  yet 
New  raiment  wrought  about  with  ruddy  gold, 
And  snowy  linen  wrapped  in  many  a  fold. 

Then  did  Medea  turn  unto  the  three. 
And  said  :  "  Farewell,  for  no  more  shall  ye  see 
These  limbs  alive,  or  hear  this  feeble  voice, 
For  either  shall  my  changed  lips  rejoice 
In  my  new  beauty,  or  else  stark  and  cold 
This  wretched  body  shall  your  eyes  behold. 
Wait  now  until  six  hours  are  over-past, 
And  if  ye  still  shall  find  the  door  shut  fast, 
Then  let  the  men  bring  hammers,  neither  doubt 
That  thence  my  corpse  alone  shall  they  bear  out. 
But  if  the  door  is  open  or  ajar, 
Draw  nigh  and  see  how  great  my  helpers  are, 
And  greet  what  there  ye  see  with  little  fear, 
For  whatsoever  may  have  touched  me  here, 
By  then,  at  least,  shall  no  one  be  with  me, 
And  nought  but  this  old  sorceress  shall  ye  see 
Grown  young  again  ;  alas  !  grown  young  again  ! 
Would  God  that  I  were  past  the  fear  and  pain  !  " 

So  said  the  Colchian  ;  but  their  fearful  eyes 
Turned  hastily  from  such  hid  mysteries 
As  there  might  lurk  ;  and  to  their  bower  they  gat, 


OF  JASON.  239 

And  well-nigh  silent  o'er  the  weaving  sat, 

And  did  what  things  they  needs  must  do  that  day, 

Until  that  six  hours'  space  had  passed  away. 

Then  had  the  sun  set,  and  the  whitening  moon 
Shone  o'er  the  gardens  where  the  brown  bird's  tune 
Was  quivering  through  the  roses  red  and  white, 
And  sweeter  smelt  the  flowers  with  the  night ; 
But  to  the  chamber  where  there  lay  alone 
The  wise  Medea,  up  the  faint  grey  stone 
Two  rose-trees  climbed,  along  a  trellis  led, 
And  with  their  wealth  of  flowers  white  and  red 
Another  garden  of  the  window  made. 

So  now  the  royal  sisters,  sore  afraid, 
Each  with  a  taper  in  her  trembling  hand, 
Before  the  fateful  chamber-door  did  stand 
And  heard  no  noise  :  whereon  Amphinome 
Pushed  at  the  door,  that  yielded,  and  the  three 
Passing  with  beating  hearts  the  oaken  door, 
Pressed  noiseless  feet  upon  the  polished  floor, 
Reddening  the  moonshine  with  their  tapers'  light. 

There  they  beheld  the  caldron  gleaming  bright, 
And  on  the  floor  the  heap  of  raiment  rent 
That  erst  had  hid  the  body  old  and  bent ; 
And  there  a  crystal  phial  they  beheld 
Empty,  that  once  some  wondrous  liquor  held  ; 
And  by  the  window-side  asleep  they  saw 
The  Colchian  woman  white,  without  a  flaw 
From  head  to  heel ;  her  round  arms  by  her  side, 
Her  fair  face  flushed  with  sweet  thoughts,  as  a  bride 
Who  waits  the  coming  of  some  well-loved  man. 
Softly  she  breathed,  the  while  the  moonlight  ran 
In  silver  ripples  o'er  her  hair  of  gold. 

But  when  that  loveliness  they  did  behold, 
They  cried  aloud  for  wonder,  though  not  yet 
Her  happy  dreaming  thoughts  would  she  forget, 


240  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  into  spoken  words  her  murmuring  grew, 
Though  of  their  purport  nought  the  sisters  knew, 
Since  in  the  outland  Colchian  tongue  she  spoke ; 
Then,  while  they  waited,  slowly  she  awoke, 
And  looking  round  her,  still  with  half-shut  eyes, 
She  said  :  "  0  damsels,  fain  would  I  arise, 
I  hear  the  morning  murmur  of  the  birds 
And  lowing  of  released  and  hungry  herds 
Across  the  meadows,  sweet  with  vetch  and  bean, 
And  the  faint  ripple  of  the  Phasis  green." 

But  with  that  last  word  did  she  start  upright, 
Shading  her  grey  eyes  from  the  tapers'  light, 
And  said  :   "0  queens,  and  are  ye  come  to  me 
This  eve,  my  triumph  over  time  to  see? 
And  is  my  boast  for  nought  ?  behold  me  made 
Like  the  fair  casket-bearer  who  betrayed 
The  luckless  man  while  yet  the  world  was  young." 
So  saying  did  she  speak  as  one  who  sung, 
So  sweet  her  voice  was ;  then  she  stept  adown 
From  off  the  silken  couch,  and  rough  and  brown 
They  seemed  beside  her,  fair  maids  though  they  were. 

But  silently  they  stood,  and  wondered  there, 
And  from  their  hearts  had  flown  all  thoughts  at  last 
But  that  of  living  while  the  world  went  past. 

Then  at  her  feet  Alcestis  knelt  and  prayed  :  — 
"  0,  who  can  see  thee,  Goddess,  unafraid  ? 
Yet  thou  thyself  hast  promised  life  to  us, 
More  than  man's  feeble  life,  and  perilous, 
And  if  thy  promise  now  thou  makest  vain, 
How  can  we  live  our  thoughtless  life  again  ? 
Then,  would  thou  ne'er  hadst  left  thine  heavenly  home, 
And  o'er  the  green  Thessalian  meadows  come  !  " 

Then  spoke  Medea  :  "  Young  as  ye  see  me 
The  king,  your  father,  in  few  days  shall  be, 
And  when  that  he  has  gained  his  just  reward, 
Your  lives  from  death  and  danger  will  I  guard  ; 


OF  JASON.  241 

Natheless  no  Goddess  am  I,  but  no  more 
Than  a  poor  wanderer  from  shore  to  shore, 
Though  loved  by  her  the  swift  of  Goddesses, 
Who  now  is  glancing  'twixt  the  dark  grey  trees, 
E'en  while  we  speak.     Now  leave  me  to  my  rest, 
For  this  new-changed  body  is  oppressed 
By  all  the  thoughts  that  round  my  heart  will  throng 
Of  ancient  days,  and  hopes  forgotten  long  ; 
Go,  therefore,  but  come  hither  with  the  sun 
To  do  my  bidding  ;  then  shall  there  be  done 
Another  marvel  ere  the  morn  comes  round, 
If  yet  ye  three  are  dwelling  above  ground." 

Then,  trembling,  they  unto  their  chamber  passed, 
But,  they  being  gone,  she  made  the  strong  door  fast, 
And  soon  in  deep  sleep  on  the  couch  she  lay 
Until  the  golden  sun  brought  back  the  day  ; 
Nor  could  she  fail  arising  to  be  glad 
That  once  again  her  own  fair  form  she  had, 
Arid  as  the  fresh  air  met  her  pleasantly, 
She  smiled,  her  image  in  the  bath  to  see 
That  had  been  lost  since  at  the  noon  she  stood 
Beside  the  still  pool  in  the  lonely  wood, 
And  she  rejoiced  her  combed-out  hair  to  bind, 
And  feel  the  linen  in  the  morning  wind 
Fluttering  about,  in  kissing  side  and  limb, 
And  it  was  sweet  about  her  ankles  slim 
To  make  the  gemmed  thongs  of  the  sandals  meet, 
With  rosy  fingers  touching  her  soft  feet. 

But  she  being  clad,  there  came  the  ladies  three, 
Who  seemed  by  her  but  handmaidens  to  be ; 
And  such  indeed  they  were,  as  dumb  with  awe 
In  the  fresh  morn  that  loveliness  they  saw. 

Then  said  Medea  :  "  Fair  queens  well  be  ye  ! 
Surely  in  happy  hour  ye  come  to  me, 
WTho,  if  I  might,  would  do  the  whole  world  good. 


242  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  now  take  heed ;  is  there  some  close  dark  wood 

Anigh  the  town  ?  —  thither  will  we  to-night, 

And  in  that  place,  hidden  from  all  men's  sight, 

Shall  ye  see  wonders  passing  human  thought. 

But  thither  by  your  hands  there  must  be  brought 

Some  ancient  beast  at  very  point  to  die, 

That  ye  may  see  how  loved  an  one  am  I 

By  dreadful  Gods ;  there,  too,  must  ye  convey 

A  brazen  caldron  ere  the  end  of  day, 

And  nigh  the  place  there  must  not  fail  to  be 

Some  running  stream  to  help  our  mystery. 

Yet  more ;  take  heed  that  She  who  helpeth  me, 

Whose  name  I  name  not,  willeth  not  to  see 

The  robes  of  kings  and  queens  upon  her  slaves ; 

Therefore,  if  ye  would  please  the  one  who  saves, 

This  night  must  ye  be  clad  in  smocks  of  black, 

And  all  adornment  must  your  bodies  lack, 

Nor  must  there  be  a  fillet  on  your  hair, 

And  the  hard  road  must  feel  your  fuet  all  bare." 

"  Lady,"  Eradne  said,  "  all  shall  be  done, 
Nor  wilt  thou  yet  have  had  beneath  the  sun 
More  faithful  servants  than  we  are  to  thee ; 
But  wilt  thou  not  the  king  my  father  see, 
And  gladden  him,  that  he  may  give  thee  things 
Such  as  the  heart  desires  —  the  spoil  of  kings  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Medea,  "  much  have  I  to  think 
Ere  the  hot  sun  beneath  the  sea  shall  sink, 
And  much  to  call  to  mind,  and  for  your  sake 
Unto  my  Helper  many  a  prayer  to  make." 

With  that  they  went,  and  she,  being  left  alone, 
Took  up  the  image  of  the  swift-foot  one, 
Which  for  a  hidden  casket  served  her  well, 
And  wherein  things  were  laid  right  strange  to  tell. 
So  this  and  that  she  looked  at,  and  the  while 
She  muttered  charms  learned  in  the  river  tele. 

But  at  the  noontide  did  they  bring  her  food, 


OF  JASON.  243 

Saying  that  all  was  ready  in  the  wood, 
And  that  the  night  alone  they  waited  now, 
Ere  unto  them  those  marvels  she  might  show. 
Therefore  Medea  bade  them  come  again 
When  all  the  house  of  peaceful  sleep  was  fain, 
And  nought  was  stirring :  so  at  dead  of  night 
They  came  to  her  in  black  apparel  dight, 
Bearing  like  raiment  for  the  Colchian, 
Who  did  it  on  before  their  faces  wan 
And  troubled  eyes  ;  then  out  of  gates  they  stole, 
Setting  their  faces  to  the  wished-for  goal. 

Now  nigh  Anaurus  a  blind  pathway  leads 
Betwixt  the  yellow  corn  and  whispering  reeds, 
The  home  of  many  a  shy,  quick-diving  bird ; 
Thereby  they  passed,  and  as  they  went  they  heard 
Splashing  of  fish,  and  ripple  of  the  stream ; 
And  once  they  saw  across  the  water's  gleam 
The  black  boat  of  some  fisher  of  the  night, 
And  from  the  stream  had  drawn  back  in  affright, 
But  that  the  Colchian  whispered  :  "  Wise  be  ye, 
Thessalian  sisters,  yet  with  certainty 
Make  onward  to  the  wood,  for  who  indeed, 
Beholding  our  pale  faces  and  black  weed, 
Would  come  the  nigher  to  us  V     Would  not  he 
Think  that  some  dread  things  we  must  surely  bo, 
And  tremble  till  we  passed  V     Haste,  for  the  night 
Is  waning  now,  and  danger  comes  with  light." 
Then  on  they  passed,  and  soon  they  reached  the  wood, 
And  straight  made  for  the  midst  of  it,  where  stood 
An  old  horned  ram  bound  fast  unto  a  tree, 
Which  the  torch-bearer,  tall  Amphinome, 
Showed  to  Medea,  and  not  far  therefrom 
Unto  a  brazen  caldron  did  they  come, 
Hidden  with  green  boughs  ;  then  Medea  bade 
That  by  their  hands  a  high  pile  should  be  made 
Of  fallen  wood,  and  all  else  fit  to  burn ; 


244  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Which  done,  unto  the  caldron  did  they  turn, 

And  bore  it  to  the  river,  and  did  strain 

Their  fair  round  arms  to  bear  it  back  again 

When  it  was  filled,  and  raised  it  on  the  pile. 

And  then  with  hands  unused  to  service  vile 

Lit  up  the  fire,  while  Medea  took 

Dried  herbs  from  out  her  wallet,  which  she  shook 

Into  the  caldron ;  till  at  last  a  cloud 

Rose  up  therefrom  and  the  dark  trees  did  shroud. 

Then  did  she  bid  them  the  old  ram  to  lead 
Up  to  the  caldron's  side,  and  with  good  heed 
To  quench  his  just  departing  feeble  life  ; 
So  in  his  throat  Eradne  thrust  the  knife, 
While  in  the  white  arms  of  Amphinorne 
And  fair  Alcestis,  bleating  piteously, 
Feebly  he  struggled ;  so  being  slain  at  last, 
Piecemeal  his  members  did  the  sisters  cast 
Into  the  seething  water  :  then  drew  back 
And  hid  their  faces  in  their  raiment  black, 
The  while  Medea  midst  the  flickering  light 
Still  sprinkled  herbs  from  out  her  fingers  white, 
And  in  a  steady  voice  at  last  did  say  :  — 

"  0  thou  that  turnest  night  into  the  day, 

0  though  the  quencher  of  unhallowed  fire, 
The  scourge  of  hot,  inordinate  desire, 
Hast  thou  a  mind  to  help  me  on  this  night, 

That  wrong  may  still  be  wrong,  and  right  be  right 
In  all  men's  eyes  ?     A  little  thing  I  ask 
Before  I  put  an  ending  to  my  task." 

Scarce  had  she  finished,  ere  a  low  black  cloud 
Seemed  closing  o'er  the  forest,  and  aloud 
Medea  cried  :  "  Oh,  strong  and  terrible  ! 

1  fear  thee  not,  do  what  may  please  tliee  well." 
Then  as  the  pale  Thcssalians  with  affright 
Crouched  on  the  earth,  forth  leapt  the  lightning  white 
Over  their  shrinking  heads,  and  therewithal 

The  thunder  crashed,  and  down  the  rain  did  fall, 


OF  JASON.  245 

As  though  some  angry  deity  were  fain 
To  make  a  pool  of  the  Thessalian  plain. 

Till  in  a  while  it  ceased,  and  all  was  stilled 
Except  the  murmur  of  some  brook  new-filled, 
And  dripping  of  the  thick-leaved  forest  trees 
As  they  moved  gently  in  the  following  breeze. 
Yet  still  King  Pelias'  daughters  feared  to  rise, 
And  with  wet  raiment  still  they  hid  their  eyes, 
And  trembled,  and  white-armed  Amphinome 
Had  dropped  the  long  torch  of  the  resin-tree, 
That  lay  half-charred  among  the  tall  wet  grass. 
But  unto  them  did  wise  Medea  pass, 
And  said  :  "  0  daughters  of  the  sea-born  man, 
Rise  up,  for  now  the  stars  are  growing  wan, 
And  the  grey  dawn  is  drawing  near  apace ; 
Nor  need  ye  fear  to  see  another  face 
Than  this  of  mine,  and  all  our  work  is  done 
We  came  to  do." 

Then  slowly,  one  by  one, 
The  sisters  rose,  and,  fearful,  drew  anigh 
The  place  where  they  had  seen  the  old  ram  die ; 
And  there  beheld,  by  glimmering  twilight  grey, 
Where  on  its  side  the  brazen  caldron  lay, 
And  on  the  grass  and  flowers  that  hid  the  ground, 
Half-charred,  extinguished  brands  lay  all  around, 
But  yet  no  token  of  the  beast  was  there ; 
But  'mid  the  brands  a  lamb  lay,  white  and  fair, 
That  now  would  raise  his  new-born  head  and  bleat, 
And  now  would  lick  the  Colchian's  naked  feet, 
As  close  he  nestled  to  her :  then  the  three 
Drew  nigh  unto  that  marvel  timidly, 
And  gazed  at  him  with  wide  eyes  wondering. 

Thereat  Medea  raised  the  new-changed  thing 
In  her  white  arms,  and  smiled  triumphantly, 
And  said  :   "  What  things  the  Gods  will  do  for  me 
Ye  now  behold ;  take,  then,  this  new-born  beast, 

22 


246  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  hope  to  sit  long  ages  at  the  feast, 
And  this  your  youth  and  loveliness  to  keep 
When  all  that  ye  have  known  are  laid  asleep. 
Yet  steel  your  hearts  to  do  a  fearful  thing. 
Ere  this  can  happen,  for  unto  the  king 
Must  your  hands  do  what  they  have  done  to-night 
To  this  same  beast.     And  now,  to  work  aright 
"What  yet  is  needful  to  this  mystery, 
Will  be  four  days'  full  bitter  toil  for  me. 
Take  heed  that  silence,  too,  on  this  ye  keep, 
Or  else  a  bitter  harvest  shall  ye  reap." 

So  said  she,  willing  well  indeed  to  know, 
Before  the  promised  sign  she  dared  to  show, 
What  honour  Pelias  in  lolchos  had, 
And  if  his  death  would  make  folk  glad  or  sad. 

But  DOW  they  turned  back  on  their  homeward  way, 
Fleeing  before  the  coming  of  the  day ; 
Nor  yet  the  flinty  way  their  feet  did  feel, 
Nor  their  wet  limbs  the  wind,  that  'gan  to  steal 
From  out  the  north-west  ere  the  sun  did  rise. 
And  swiftly  though  they  went,  yet  did  their  eyes 
Behold  no  more  than  eyes  of  those  that  dream 
The  crumbling  edges  of  the  swirling  stream 
Or  fallen  tree-trunks  or  the  follow  rough. 
But  Juno  sent  them  feeling  just  enough 
By  the  lone  ways  to  come  unto  the  town 
And  fair-walled  palace,  and  to  lay  them  down 
Upon  their  fragrant  beds,  that  stood  forlorn 
Of  their  white  bodies,  waiting  for  the  morn 
In  chambers  close-shut  from  the  dying  night. 

But  since  Medea  fain  would  know  aright 
What  the  folk  willed  to  Pelias  in  the  town, 
Early  next  day  she  did  on  her  the  brown 
And  ragged  raiment,  and  the  sisters  told 
That  she  must  find  the  place  where  herbs  were  sold, 


OF   JASON.  247 

And  there  buy  this  or  that ;  therewith  she  went 
About  the  town,  seeming  crook-backed  and  bent ; 
And,  hidden  in  her  mantle  and  great  hood, 
Within  the  crowded  market-place  she  stood, 
And  marked  the  talk  of  all  the  busy  folk, 
And  ever  found  that  under  Pelias'  yoke 
All  people  groaned  :  and  therefore  with  good  heart 
She  set  herself  to  work  out  all  her  part. 

For,  going  back,  till  the  fifth  day  was  gone 
She  dwelt  within  her  chamber  all  alone, 
Except  that  now  and  then  the  sisters  came 
To  bring  her  food  ;  and  whiles  they  saw  a  flame, 
Strange-coloured,  burning  on  the  hearth,  while  she 
Was  bending  o'er  it,  muttering  wearily, 
And  whiles  they  saw  her  bent  o'er  parchment  strange, 
And  letters  that  they  knew  not ;  but  no  change 
They  ever  saw  upon  her  lovely  face. 

But  at  the  last,  she,  mindful  of  the  place 
Where  lay  fair  Argo's  glorious  battered  keel, 
And  that  dread  hidden  forest  of  bright  steel,. 
Said  to  Eradne,  when  her  food  she  brought 
Upon  the  sixth  morn  :  "  Sister,  I  have  thought 
How  best  to  carry  out  the  mystery 
That  is  so  dear  at  heart  to  thee  and  me, 
And  find  that  this  night  must  the  thing  be  done ; 
So  seek  a  place  where  we  may  be  alone, 
High  up,  and  looking  southward  o'er  the  bay  ; 
Thither  ere  midnight  must  ye  steal  away, 
And  under  a  huge  caldron  set  dry  brands. 
And  that  being  done,  take  sharp  swords  in  your  hands, 
And  while  I  watch  the  sea,  and  earth,  and  air, 
Go  ye  to  Pelias'  well-hung  chamber  fair ; 
There  what  ye  will  ye  may  most  surely  do, 
If  ye  will  work  the  way  I  counsel  you. 
Therewith  a  phial  in  her  hand  she  set, 
And  said  :  "  Who  tasteth  this  will  soon  forget 


248  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Both  life  and  death,  and  for  no  noise  will  wake 
In  two  days'  space ;  therefore  this  phial  take, 
And  with  the  king's  drink  see  ye  mingle  it, 
As  well  ye  may,  and  let  his  servants  sit 
O'er  wine  so  honeyed  at  the  feast  to-night. 
Then  certes  shall  their  sleep  not  be  so  light, 
That  bare  feet  pattering  across  the  floor, 
Or  unused  creaking  of  an  open  door, 
Shall  rouse  them  ;  though  no  deadly  drug  it  is, 
But  bringer  of  kind  sleep  and  dreamy  bliss. 

"  But  now,  what  think 'st  thou  ?  Are  your  hearts  so  good, 
That  ye  will  dare  to  shed  your  father's  blood 
That  he  may  live  for  ever  ?  —  then  is  he 
The  luckiest  of  all  men.     But  if  ye 
Draw  back  now,  after  all  my  prayers  and  tears, 
Then  were  it  best  that  ye  should  end  your  fears 
By  burning  me  with  quick  fire  ere  to-night. 
And  yet  not  thus  should  ye  lead  lives  aright, 
And  free  from  fear ;  because  the  sandalled  queen 
Doth  ever  keep  a  memory  fresh  and  green 
For  all  her  faithful  servants  :  ye  did  see 
Late  in  the  green-wood  how  she  lovetb  me. 

"  Therefore  be  wise,  and  when  to-night  ye  draw 
The  sharp-edged  steel,  glittering  without  a  flaw, 
Cast  fear  and  pity  from  you.     Pity  him 
I  bid  you  rather,  who,  with  shrunken  limb 
And  sunken  eyes,  remembers  well  the  days 
When  in  the  ranks  of  war  he  garnered  praise, 
Which  unarmed,  feeble,  as  his  last  year  ends, 
Babbling  amongst  the  elders  now  he  spends. 
Such  shall  not  Pelias  be,  but  rather  now 
The  breath  of  new  life  past  misdeeds  shall  blow 
Adown  the  wind,  and,  taught  by  his  old  life, 
Shall  he  live  honoured,  free  from  fear  or  strife." 

"  Fear  not,"  Krailnc  said,  "  our  will  to-night, 
For  all  thy  bidding  will  we  do  outright, 


OF  JASON.  249 

Since  still  a  Goddess  thou  dost  seem  to  be 

To  us  poor  strugglers  with  mortality. 

And  for  the  secret  spot  this  night  we  need, 

Close  to  the  sea  a  place  I  know,  indeed, 

Upon  the  outskirts  of  this  palace  fair ; 

And  on  this  night  of  all  nights,  close  by  there 

My  father  sleeps,  as  oft  his  custom  is, 

When  he  is  fain  a  Mysian  girl  to  kiss, 

Sea-rovers  sold  to  him  three  months  agone. 

There  after  midnight  we  shall  be  alone 

Beyond  all  doubt,  since  this  place  by  the  sea 

A  temple  is  of  some  divinity, 

Whose  very  name  men  now  have  clean  forgot, 

And,  as  folk  think,  ill  spirits  haunt  the  spot : 

So  all  men  fear  it  sore,  but  soothly  we 

Fear  nought  of  all  these  things,  being  led  by  thee." 

She  ceased,  and  from  the  Colchian  won  much  praise, 
And  promises  of  many  happy  days. 

Then  as  upon  the  door  she  laid  her  hand, 
Medea  said  :   "  When  midnight  hides  the  land, 
Come  here  to  me,  and  bring  me  to  that  place  ; 
Then  look  the  last  upon  your  father's  face 
As  ye  have  known  it  for  these  eighteen  years, 
Furrowed  by  eld  and  drawn  by  many  fears ; 
But  when  ye  come,  in  such  guise  be  ye  clad 
As  in  the  wood  that  other  night  ye  had." 
Then  did  Eradne  leave  her,  and  the  day 
Through  sunshine  and  through  shadow  passed  away. 

But  with  the  midnight  came  the  sisters  three 
To  lead  her  to  that  temple  by  the  sea, 
And  in  black  raiment  had  they  hurried  there 
With  naked  feet,  and  unadorned  loose  hair, 
E'en  as  the  other  night  Medea  bade, 
Except  that  each  one  had  a  trenchant  blade 
Slung  round  her  neck,  wherewith  to  do  the  deed. 

22* 


250  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Of  these  Alcestis  trembled  like  the  reed 
Set  midmost  of  some  quickly  running  stream, 
But  with  strange  fire  Eradne's  eyes  did  gleam, 
And  a  bright  flush  was  burning  on  her  cheek, 
As  still  her  fingers  the  sharp  steel  did  seek  ; 
While  tall  Amphinome,  grown  pale  and  white 
Beyond  all  measure,  gazed  into  the  night 
With  steady  eyes,  as  with  the  queen  they  went 
To  that  lone  place  to  work  out  their  intent. 

So  when  all  courts  and  corridors  were  passed, 
Unto  the  ancient  fane  they  came  at  last, 
And  found  it  twofold  ;  for  below  there  stood 
Square  marble  pillars,  huge,  and  red  as  blood, 
And  wrought  all  o'er  with  fretting  varying  much  ; 
Heavy  they  were,  and  nowise  like  to  such 
As  men  built  in  the  lands  Medea  knew, 
Or  in  the  countries  fate  had  led  her  through  : 
But  they,  set  close  and  thick,  aloft  did  hold 
A  well-wrought  roof,  where  still  gleamed  scraps  of  gold, 
That  once  told  tales  of  Gods  none  living  praise  ; 
And  on  this  roof  some  king  of  later  days 
Had  built  another  temple  long  before 
The  Minyae  came  adown  unto  that  shore 
From  fair  Orchomenus,  of  whose  rites  indeed, 
And  to  what  Gods  the  victim  then  did  bleed, 
Men  knew  but  little  ;  but  therein  there  rose 
Fair  slim  white  pillars  set  in  goodly  rows, 
And  garlanded  with  brazen  fruit  and  flowers, 
That  gleaming  once,  through  lapse  of  many  hours, 
Now  with  black  spirals  wrapt  the  pillars  white. 
But  this  fair  fane  was  open  to  the  night 
On  one  side  only,  toward  the  restless  sea  ; 
And  there  a  terrace,  wrought  full  cunningly, 
Clear  of  the  pillars  hung  above  the  sand. 

Now  went  those  maids,  groping  with  outstretched  hand 
Betwixt  the  pillars  of  the  undercroft, 


OF   JASON.  251 

Until  they  reached  a  stair  that  led  aloft 
Into  the  windy,  long-deserted  fane 
Of  younger  days  ;  but  when  their  feet  did  gain 
The  open  space  above  the  murmuring  sea, 
In  whispers  did  the  queens  of  Thessaly 
Show  to  the  Colchian  where  the  great  pile  was, 
Built  'neath  a  vessel  of  bright  polished  brass, 
And  many  water-jars  there  stood  around  ; 
And,  as  they  spoke,  to  them  the  faint  low  sound 
Of  their  own  whispered  voices  seemed  as  loud 
As  shouts  that  break  from  out  the  armed  crowd 
Of  warriors  ready  for  the  fight. 

But  she 

Spoke  with  no  lowered  voice,  and  said  :  "  0  ye  ! 
Be  brave  to-night,  and  thenceforth  have  no  fear 
Of  God  or  man  since  ye  to  me  are  dear. 
Light  up  the  torches,  because  certainly 
Those  that  may  see  them  gleaming  o'er  the  sea 
Will  think  they  light  but  spirits  of  the  air." 
Then  presently  the  torches  out  did  flare, 
And  lighted  up  the  smile  upon  her  face 
And  the  tall  pillars  of  the  holy  place, 
And  the  three  sisters  gazing  at  her  there, 
Wild-looking,  with  the  sea-wind  in  their  hair, 
And  scant  black  raiment  driven  from  their  feet. 

But  when  her  eyes  their  fearful  eyes  did  meet, 
With  wild  appealing  glances  as  for  aid, 
Some  little  pity  touched  the  Colchian  maid, 
Some  vague  regret  for  their  sad  destiny. 
But  to  herself  she  said  :  "  So  must  it  be, 
And  to  such  misery  shall  such  a  king 
Lead  wife  arid  child,  and  every  living  thing 
That  trusts  him."     Then  she  said  :   "  Leave  me  alone, 
And  go  and  do  that  which  were  better  done 
Ere  any  streak  of  dawn  makes  grey  the  sky. 
And  come  to  me  when  ye  have  seen  him  lie 
Dead  to  his  old  life  of  misdeeds  and  woe." 


252  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  voiceless  from  the  torchlight  did  they  go 
Into  the  darkness,  and  she,  left  alone, 
Set  by  the  torches  till  the  deed  was  done 
Within  the  pillars,  and  turned  back  again 
With  eager  eyes  to  gaze  across  the  main  ; 
But  nothing  she  beheld  by  that  starlight 
But  on  the  beach  the  line  of  breakers  white, 
And  here  and  there,  above  the  unlit  grey, 
Some  white-topped  billow  dotting  the  dark  bay. 

Then,  sighing,  did  she  turn  herself  around, 
And  looked  down  toward  the  plot  of  unused  ground, 
Whereby  they  passed  into  that  fateful  place, 
And  gazed  thereon  with  steadfast  wary  face, 
And  there  the  pavement,  whitened  by  the  wind, 
Betwixt  the  turf  she  saw,  and  nigh  it,  twined 
About  a  marble  image  carelessly, 
A  white  wild-rose,  and  the  grey  boundary 
Of  wind-beat  stone,  through  whose  unhinged  door 
Their  stealthy  feet  had  passed  a  while  before. 

Nought  else  she  saw  for  a  long  dreary  hour, 
For  all  things  lay  asleep  in  bed  or  bower, 
Or  in  the  little-lighted  mountain  caves, 
Or  'neath  the  swirling  streams  and  toppling  waves. 

She  trembled  then,  for  in  the  eastern  sky 
A  change  came,  telling  of  the  dawning  nigh, 
And  with  swift  footsteps  she  began  to  pace 
Betwixt  the  narrow  limits  of  the  place  ; 
But  as  she  turned  round  toward  the  close  once  more, 
Her  eyes  beheld  the  pavement  by  the  door 
Hid  by  some  moving  mass  ;  then  joyfully 
She  waved  her  white  arms  toward  the  murmuring  sea, 
And  listened  trembling,  and  although  the  sound 
Of  breakers  that  the  sandy  sea-beach  ground 
Was  loud  in  the  still  night,  yet  could  vshe  hear 
Sounds  like  the  shuffling  steps  of  those  that  bear 
Some  heavy  thing,  and,  as  she  gazed,  could  SGQ 


OF   JASON.  253 

The  thin  black  raiment  of  the  sisters  three 

Blown  out,  and  falling  backward  as  they  bent 

Over  some  burden,  and  right  slowly  went; 

And  'twixt  their  arms  could  she  behold  the  gleam 

Of  gold  or  gems,  or  silver-broidered  seam, 

Till  all  was  hidden  by  the  undercroft. 

And  then  she  heard  them  struggling  bear  aloft 

That  dreadful  burden,  and  then  went  to  meet, 

With  beating  heart,  their  slow  ascending  feet, 

Taking  a  half-burnt  torch  within  her  hand. 

There  by  its  light  did  she  behold  them  stand 
Breathless  upon  the  first  stone  of  that  fane, 
And  with  no  word  she  beckoned  them  again 
To  move  on  toward  the  terrace  o'er  the  sea, 
And,  turning,  went  before  them  silently. 

And  so  at  last  the  body  down  they  laid 
Close  by  the  caldron,  and  Eradne  said  :  — 

"  0  thou,  our  life  and  saviour !  linger  not, 
We  pray  thee  now  !  because  our  hearts  are  hot 
To  see  our  father  look  with  other  eyes 
Upon  the  sea,  the  green  earth,  and  the  skies, 
And  praise  us  for  this  seeming  impious  deed." 

Not  heeding  her,  Medea  saw  the  weed 
She  erst  beheld  all  glittering  in  the  hall, 
And  that  same  mantle  as  a  funeral  pall 
Which  she  had  seen  laid  over  either  knee, 
The  wonder  of  King  ^Eson's  treasury, 
W7hich  wise  Phoenicians  for  much  coined  gold, 
And  many  oxen,  years  agone  had  sold 
To  jEson,  when  folk  called  him  king  and  lord. 

Then  to  the  head  she  went,  and  with  no  word 
The  white  embroidered  linen  drew  away 
Over  the  face  of  the  dead  man,  that  lay 
As  though  she  doubted  yet  what  thing  it  was, 
And  saw  indeed  the  face  of  Pelias. 


254  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  o'er  her  pale  face  a  bright  flush  there  came, 
And,  turning,  did  she  set  the  torches'  flame 
Unto  the  dry  brands  of  the  well-built  pyre, 
And,  standing  back,  and  waving  from  the  fire 
The  shuddering  girls,  somewhat  thereon  she  cast, 
Like  unto  incense  :  then  with  furious  blast 
Shot  up  a  smokeless  flame  into  the  air, 
Quivering  and  red,  nor  then  did  she  forbear 
To  cry  aloud,  in  her  old  Colchian  tongue, 
Proud  words,  and  passionate,  that  strangely  rung 
Within  the  poor  bewildered  sisters'  ears, 
Filling  their  hearts  with  vague  and  horrid  fears. 

"  0  love  !  "  she  said,  "  0  love  !  0  sweet  delight ! 
Hast  thou  begun  to  weep  for  me  this  night, 
Dost  thou  stretch  out  for  me  thy  mighty  hands  — 
The  feared  of  all,  the  graspers  of  the  lands  ? 
Come  then,  0  love,  across  the  dark  seas  come, 
And  triumph  as  a  king  in  thine  own  home, 
While  I,  the  doer  of  this  happy  deed, 
Shall  sit  beside  thee  in  this  wretched  weed ; 
That  folk  may  know  me  by  thine  eyes  alone 
Still  blessing  him  for  all  that  I  have  done. 
Come,  king,  and  sit  upon  thy  father's  seat, 
Come,  conquering  king,  thy  conqueror  love  to  meet." 

But  as  she  said  these  words  the  luckless  three 
Stared  at  her  glowing  face  all  helplessly, 
Nor  to  their  father's  corpse  durst  turn  their  eyes, 
While  in  their  hearts  did  fearful  thoughts  arise. 
But  now  Medea,  ceasing,  fed  the  fire 
With  that  same  incense,  and  the  flame  rose  higher, 
A  portent  to  the  dwellers  in  the  town, 
Unto  the  shepherd  waking  on  the  down, 
A  terror  telling  of  ill  things  to  be. 

But  from  the  God-built  tower  of  Thessaly, 
Grey  Pelion,  did  the  centaur  Cheiron  gaze, 


OF  JASON.  255 

And  when  he  saw  that  ruddy  flame  outblaze, 

He  smiled,  and  said :  "  So  comes  to  pass  the  word 

That  in  the  forests  of  the  north  I  heard, 

And  in  such  wise  shall  love  be  foiled,  and  hate, 

And  hope  of  gain,  opposing  steadfast  fate." 

So  to  the  flowery  eastern  slopes  he  gat, 
Waiting  the  dawn,  nor  hoped  for  this  or  that. 


BOOK    XVI. 

BUT  other  watchers  were  there  on  that  night, 
Who  saw  the  birth  of  that  desired  light 
From  nigh  green  Cicynethus'  woody  shore. 

For  in  mid-channel  there,  with  every  oar 
Run  out,  and  cable  ready  for  the  slip, 
Did  Jason  hold  his  glorious  storm-tossed  ship, 
While  in  the  top  did  keen-eyed  Lynceus  stand, 
And  every  man  had  ready  to  his  hand 
Sharp  spear,  and  painted  shield,  and  grinded  sword. 
Thus  as  they  waited,  suddenly  the  word 
Rang  out  from  Jason's  mouth,  and  in  the  sea 
The  cable  splashed,  and  straight  the  Minyae 
Unto  their  breasts  the  shaven  ash-trees  brought, 
And,  as  the  quivering  blades  the  water  caught, 
Shouted  for  joy,  and  quickly  passed  the  edge 
Of  Cicynethus,  green  with  reed  and  sedge. 
And  whitening  the  dark  waters  of  the  bay, 
Unto  lolchos  did  they  take  their  way. 

Meanwhile  the  Colchian  queen  triumphantly 
Watched  the  grey  dawn  steal  forth  above  the  sea, 
Still  murmuring  softly  in  the  Colchian  tongue, 
While  o'er  her  head  the  flickering  fire  hung, 
And  in  the  brazen  caldron's  lips  did  gleam ; 


256  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Whercfrom  went  up  a  great  white  cloud  of  steam, 
To  die  above  their  heads  in  that  fresh  air. 
But  Pelias'  daughters,  writhing  in  despair, 
Silent  for  dread  of  her,  she  noted  nought, 
Nor  of  the  dead  man  laid  thereby  she  thought. 

At  last  came  forward  tall  Amphinome, 
And  said  :   "  0  Queen,  look  o'er  the  whitening  sea, 
And  tell  us  now  what  thing  it  is  we  lack 
To  bring  our  father's  vanished  breathing  back 
With  that  new  life,  whereof  thou  spak'st  to  us." 
So  in  a  broken  voice  and  piteous 
She  spoke  ;  but  when  no  answer  came  at  all, 
Nor  did  Medea's  grey  eyes  on  her  fall, 
She  cried  again  :   "0,  art  thou  pitiless? 
Wilt  thou  not  note  our  measureless  distress  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  finish  that  thou  hast  begun  ? 
Lo,  in  a  little  while  the  piercing  sun 
Shall  find  us  slayers  of  our  father  here. 
Then  if  thou  hast  no  pity,  hast  thou  fear  ? 
We  are  king's  daughters  still,  and  with  us  still 
Are  men  who  heed  nought  but  to  do  our  will ; 
And  if  thou  fall'st  into  the  hands  of  these, 
Thou  shalt  lament  the  gloomy  northern  trees 
And  painless  death  of  threescore  years  and  ten, 
And  little  shall  thy  beauty  help  thee  then." 

So  cried  she  shrilly  in  her  gathering  ire  ; 
But  when  Medea  answered  not,  the  fire 
Burnt  out  within  her  heart,  and  on  her  knees 
She  fell,  and  cried  :   "  0  crown  of  Goddesses, 
Forgive  these  impious  words,  and  answer  me, 
Else  shall  I  try  if  the  green  heaving  sea 
Will  hide  from  all  these  impious  blood-stained  hands, 
Or  bear  them  far  away  to  savage  lands, 
That  know  no  good  or  evil ;  0  speak,  speak  ! 
1  low  can  I  pray  thee  when  all  words  are  weak  'I 
AVhat  gifts,  what  worship,  shall  we  give  to  thee  ?  " 


OF  JASON.  257 

E'en  as  she  spoke,  Medea  seemed  to  see 
A  twinkling  light  far  off  amidst  the  bay, 
Then  from  the  suppliant  hand  she  drew  away, 
Nor  turned  to  her ;  but  looking  seaward  still, 
She  cried  :  "  0  love  !  yet  shalt  thou  have  thy  fill 
Of  wealth,  and  power,  and  much  desired  fame, 
Nor  shall  the  Grecian  folk  forget  my  name 
Who  dearly  bought  these  for  thee ;  therefore  come, 
And  with  the  sun  behold  thy  wished-for  home." 

So  spoke  she,  and  no  less  the  wretched  three 
Beheld  that  light  grow  greater  o'er  the  sea, 
And  therewithal  the  grey  dawn  coming  fast, 
And  from  them  now  well-nigh  all  hope  had  passed. 
But  fair  Alcestis,  grovelling  on  the  ground, 
And  crying  out,  cast  both  her  arms  around 
Medea's  knees,  and  panting,  and  half-dead, 
Poured  forth  wild  words,  nor  knew  the  words  she  said. 
While  the  two  others,  mad  with  their  despair, 
Ran  wailing  through  the  pillars  here  and  there, 
Nor  knew  indeed  what  thing  had  come  on  them, 
For  now,  at  last,  fair  Argo's  plunging  stem 
Medea  saw  in  the  still  gathering  light, 
And  round  about  her  the  sea  beaten  white 
With  steady  oars;  then  she  looked  down,  and  said  : 
"  What  !  art  thou  praying  for  the  newly  dead, 
For  him  who  yesterday  beheld  the  sun  'i 
And  dost  thou  think  that  I  am  such  an  one 
That  what  the  Gods  have  unmade  I  can  make  ? 
Lo  !  with  the  dead  shall  Pelias  awake, 
And  see  such  things  as  dead  men's  eyes  may  see." 

Then  as  Alcestis,  moaning  wretchedly, 
Fell  back  upon  the  pavement,  thus  she  said  :  — 
"  Take  comfort  yet,  and  lift  again  thine  head, 
0  foolish  woman  !     Dost  thou  think  that  fate 
Has  yet  been  stopped  by  any  love  or  hate, 
Or  fear  of  death,  or  man's  far-shouted  fame  ? 

23 


258  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  still  doubt  not  that  I,  who  have  to  name 
The  wise  Medea,  in  such  ways  as  this 
Have  long  been  struggling  for  a  life  of  bliss 
I  shall  not  gain  ;  and  thus  do  all  men  do, 
And  win  such  wages  as  have  happed  to  you. 

"  Rise  up  and  gaze  at  what  the  fates  have  wrought, 
And  all  the  counsels  they  have  brought  to  nought 
On  this  same  morn.     Hearken  the  dash  of  oars 
That  never  more  ye  thought  would  brush  these  shores ; 
Behold  the  man  stand  on  the  high-raised  prow 
That  this  dead  man  so  surely  dead  did  know  ! 
See  how  he  raises  in  his  conquering  hand 
The  guarded  marvel  of  the  Colchian  land, 
This  dead  king  deemed  hid  death  and  unknown  woe  ! 
See  how  his  folk  ashore  the  grapnels  throw  !  — 
And  see,  and  see  !  beneath  the  risen  sun, 
How  fair  a  day  for  this  land  is  begun  ! 
And  let  king  Pelias  rise  if  now  he  can, 
And  stop  the  coming  of  the  half-shod  man." 

E'en  as  she  spoke,  the  keel  had  touched  the  sand, 
And  catching  up  her  raiment  in  her  hand, 
She  ran  with  speed,  and  gained  the  temple  close, 
Made  fragrant  with  that  many-flowered  rose, 
And  o'er  its  daisied  grass  sped  toward  the  beach ; 
But  when  her  feet  the  wrinkled  sand  did  reach, 
There,  nigh  the  ship,  alone  did  Jason  stand, 
Holding  two  spears  within  his  ready.hand ; 
And  right  and  left  he  peered  forth  warily, 
As  though  he  thought  some  looked-for  thing  to  see. 

But  when  he  saw  her  hurrying  him  to  meet, 
With  wild  wind-tangled  hair,  and  naked  feet, 
And  outstretched  hands,  and  scanty  raiment  black, 
But  for  one  moment  did  he  start  aback, 
As  if  some  guardian  spirit  of  the  land 
Had  come  upon  him  ;  but  the  next,  his  band 
Had  caught  her  slim  wrist,  and  he  shouted  out : 


OF   JASON.  259 

"  Ashore,  0  heroes  !  and  no  more  have  doubt 
That  all  is  well  done  we  have  wished  were  done  ; 
By  this  my  love,  by  this  the  glorious  one, 
The  saviour  of  my  life,  the  Queen  of  Love, 
To  whom  alone  of  all  who  are  above, 
Or  on  the  earth,  will  I  pour  wine,  or  give 
The  life  of  anything  that  once  did  live." 

Then  all  men  shouting,  leapt  forth  on  the  sand, 
And  stood  about  them,  shield  and  spear  in  hand, 
Rejoicing  that  their  mighty  task  was  done  ; 
But  as  he  saw  the  newly-risen  sun 
Shine  on  the  town,  upon  their  left  that  lay, 
Then,  smiling  joyously,  did  Jason  say  :  — 

"  0  heroes,  tell  me,  is  not  the  day  won  ? 
Look  how  the  sun's  rays  now  are  stealing  on, 
And  soon  will  touch  that  temple's  marble  feet 
Where  stood  the  king  our  parting  keel  to  greet, 
But  the  great  golden  image  of  the  God 
Holds  up,  unlighted  yet,  his  crystal  rod, 
And  surely  ere  the  noon  shall  gleam  on  it 
Upon  my  father's  throne  his  son  shall  sit, 
Hedged  round  with  spears  of  loyal  men  and  true, 
And  all  be  done  that  we  went  forth  to  do." 

But,  'midst  their  shouting,  spoke  the  queen  again  :  — 
"  Jason,  behold  hereby  this  ancient  fane  — 
Amidst  its  pillars  let  the  heroes  go 
Until  a  marble  stair  they  come  unto, 
And  thereby  mount  into  a  pillared  place, 
At  end  whereof,  upon  an  open  space 
Hung  o'er  the  beach,  that  fire  shall  they  see 
That  lighted  you  to  finish  gloriously 
Your  glorious  journey  ;  and  beside  the  fire 
There  shall  they  find  the  slayer  of  thy  sire, 
Who,  soothly,  shall  not  flee  from  them  to-day, 
Nor  curse  the  men  who  carry  him  away." 


260  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Then  forth  Mencetius  and  Nauphius  stood, 
Lynceus  the  keen,  and  Apheus  of  the  wood, 
To  do  the  thing  that  she  would  have  them  do, 
While  unto  Argo  did  Medea  go, 
And  for  the  last  time  scaled  the  sea-beat  side  ; 
There  'midst  her  silken  curtains  did  she  hide, 
And  taking  forth  the  fairest  weed  she  had, 
In  many  a  fragrant  fold  her  body  clad, 
And  on  her  feet  bound  golden  sandals  fair, 
And  set  a  golden  garland  on  her  hair. 

But  when  again  she  reached  the  shell-strewn  sand, 
She  saw  the  shielded  heroes  wondering  stand 
About  the  new-slain  body  of  the  king, 
Not  knowing  yet  whose  hands  had  wrought  the  thing. 
For,  scared  amid  their  woe  and  misery, 
By  clash  of  arms,  the  wretched  sisters  three 
Were  lurking  yet  within  the  undercroft, 
Amongst  the  close-set  pillars,  thinking  oft 
That  now  the  whole  round  world  should  be  undone. 

But  while  they  trembled,  ^Eson's  glorious  son 
Bade  men  make  onward  toward  the  market-place, 
That  there  he  might  the  wondering  townsfolk  face 
For  war  or  peace  whichever  it  might  be ; 
But  first  upon  a  great  oar  carefully 
They  bound  a  spar  crosswise,  and  hung  thereon 
That  guarded  marvel  that  their  arms  had  won, 
And  as  a  banner  bore  it  well  aloft. 
And  fair  Medea,  upon  cushions  soft, 
Laid  upon  spear-staves  did  they  bear  along, 
Hedged  round  with  glittering  spears  and  bucklers  strong, 
And  unarmed,  fearless,  mighty  Jason  led 
Their  joyous  march  ;  next  whom,  the  man  just  dead, 
The  strong-armed  heroes  upon  spear-shafts  bore, 
With  dark  blue  sea-cloaks  deftly  covered  o'er. 

So,  following  up  the  poor  unkingly  bier 
Of  him  who  erst,  for  love  of  gain  and  fear, 


OF  JASON.  261 

Had  sent  them  forth  to  what  he  deemed  their  end, 
They  through  the  palace  courts  began  to  wend, 
Not  stayed  of  any,  since  the  guards  indeed 
Still  slept,  made  heavy  by  the  drowsy  weed 
Eradne  in  their  wine  erewhile  did  steep. 
And  other  folk,  just  risen  from  their  sleep, 
Looked  from  the  windows  'mazed ;  and  like  a  dream 
The  queen,  enthroned  on  golden  cloths  did  seem, 
And  like  a  dream  the  high-raised,  glittering  Fleece, 
And  that  new-slain  long-hated  pest  of  Greece. 
And  some  indeed  there  were  who  saw  full  well 
What  wondrous  tale  there  would  be  now  to  tell  ; 
Who  the  glad  setting  forth  did  not  forget, 
Unto  whose  eyes  more  fair,  more  glorious  yet, 
The  heroes  showed,  than  when  the  sunny  bay 
First  felt  their  keel  upon  a  happy  day. 
They,  crying  out  for  joy,  beheld  the  Fleece, 
And  that  fair  Helper  who  had  saved  for  Greece 
The  godlike  heroes,  and  amidst  of  these 
Seemed  not  the  least  of  heavenly  Goddesses. 

Withal  they  reached  at  last  the  brazen  gate 
Of  JEson's  house,  outside  of  which  did  wait 
Men  armed  and  shouting,  for  that  dawn  a  man 
None  knew,  a  fisher  on  the  water  wan, 
From  house  to  house  among  the  folk  had  gone, 
Who  said,  that  being  in  his  boat  alone, 
Casting  his  nets  a  little  time  before 
The  dawn,  he  heard  the  sound  of  many  an  oar, 
And  looking  round,  beheld  a  glittering  prow 
That  he  for  Argo's  armed  beak  did  know ; 
And  as  he  gazed,  her  many-coloured  side 
Dashed  past  him  like  a  dream,  with  flood  of  tide, 
As  for  the  far-off  ancient  fane  she  made  ; 
And  that  thereon  his  anchor  straight  he  weighed, 
And  made  good  haste  the  landing-place  to  gain. 
"For  certes,"  said  he,  "  Pelias  is  slain, 

23* 


262  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  we  are  free  once  more."     So  saying,  he  passed 
From  house  to  house,  and  reached  the  gates  at  last ; 
Nor  any  saw  him  more  on  land  or  sea, 
And,  certes,  none  but  clear-voiced  Mercury 
Spoke  in  that  man  by  helpful  Juno  made, 
No  body,  soothly,  but  a  hollow  shade. 

Now,  therefore,  when  the  gates  were  open  wide, 
Shouting,  the  folk  drew  back  on  either  side, 
All  wild  with  joy  ;  but  when  they  did  behold 
The  high-raised  Fleece  of  curling  ruddy  gold, 
And  the  glad  heroes'  mighty  heads  beneath, 
And  throned  Medea,  with  her  golden  wreath, 
And  folded  hands,  and  chiefest  thing  of  all, 
The  godlike  man  who  went  beside  the  pall, 
Whereon  the  body  of  their  tyrant  lay, 
Then  did  their  voices  fail  them  on  that  day, 
And  many  a  man  of  weeping  there  was  fain. 

At  last  did  Jason  set  his  foot  again 
Upon  the  steps  of  that  same  ivory  throne 
Where  once  he  fronted  Pelias  all  alone, 
And  bare  of  friends :  but  now  he  turned  about, 
And,  'mid  the  thunder  of  the  people's  shout, 
Scarce  heard  his  fellows'  spears  :  and  by  his  side 
There  stood  his  gold-adorned  Colchian  bride, 
With  glad  tears  glistening  in  her  sweet  grey  eyes  : 
And  dead,  at  end  of  foiled  treacheries, 
There  lay  his  foe,  the  slayer  of  his  kin. 

Then  did  he  clasp  the  hand  that  lay  within 
His  mighty  and  sword-hardened  fingers  brown, 
And  cried  aloud  above  the  shouting  town  :  — 

"  Tell  me,  0  people  of  my  father's  land, 
Before  whose  ivory  well-wrought  throne  I  stand, 
And  whose  fair-towered  house  mine  eyes  behold, 
Glittering  with  brazen  pillars,  rich  with" gold? 


OF  JASON.  263 

"A  while  ago  we  sailed  across  the  sea, 
To  meet  our  deaths,  if  so  the  thing  must  be, 
And  there  .had  died,  had  not  the  kind  Gods  been, 
Who  sent  to  us  this  lovely  Colchiari  queen 
To  be  our  helper :  many  a  land  we  saw 
That  knoweth  neither  tongue  of  man,  or  law 
Of  God  or  man  :  oft  most  things  did  we  lack 
That  most  men  have,  as  still  we  struggled  back 
Unto  the  soft  wind  and  the  Grecian  sea, 
Until  this  morn  our  keel  triumphantly 
Furrowed  the  green  waves  of  the  well-known  bay. 
There  to  yon  palace  did  I  take  my  way, 
As  one  who  thought  his  father's  face  to  see ; 
Yet  landing  on  the  green  shore  warily, 
(Since  times  may  change,  and  friendship  come  to  nought,) 
To  this  dead  man  straightway  my  feet  were  brought, 
Whose  face  I  knew,  the  face  of  Pelias. 

"  Then  still  more  warily  thence  did  we  pass, 
Till  we  met  folk  who  told  us  everything, 
Both  of  the  slaying  of  the  godlike  king, 
^Eson,  my  father,  and  of  other  folk, 
And  how  the  whole  land  groaned  beneath  the  yoke 
Of  this  dead  man,  whom  sure  the  Gods  have  slain 
That  all  our  labour  might  not  be  in  vain, 
Nor  we,  safe  passing  through  the  deadly  land, 
Lie  slain  in  our  own  country  at  his  hand. 
So  have  the  Gods  wrought,  therefore  am  I  here, 
No  shield  upon  mine  arm,  no  glittering  spear 
In  my  right  hand,  but  by  my  unarmed  side 
This  Colchian  Queen,  by  many  sorrows  tried. 
Therefore,  no  fear  of  you  is  in  my  heart ; 
And  if  ye  will,  henceforth  will  I  depart, 
Nor  take  mine  own ;  or  if  it  please  this  town 
To  slay  me,  let  them  lay  my  dead  corpse  down, 
As  on  his  tomb  my  father's  image  lies, 
Like  what  he  was  before  these  miseries 


0?  TH3 

rtrwc 


264  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Fell  on  his  head.     But  in  no  wise  will  T 
Take  seat  beneath  this  golden  canopy, 
Before  ye  tell  me,  people  of  this  land, 
Whose  throne  this  is  before  the  which  I  stand, 
Whose  towered  house  this  is  mine  eyes  behold, 
Girt  round  with  brazen  pillars,  bright  with  gold." 

Then,  ere  he  ceased,  the  people's  shouts  broke  in 
Upon  his  speech  :   "  Most  glorious  of  thy  kin  ! 
Be  thou  our  king  —  be  thou  our  king  alone, 
That  we  may  think  the  age  of  iron  gone, 
And  Saturn  come  with  every  peaceful  thing :  — 
Jason  for  king  !  the  Conqueror  for  king  !  " 

Therewith  the  heroes  clashed  their  spears  and  shields, 
And  as  within  the  many-flowered  fields 
This  way  and  that  the  slim-stalked  flowers  bend, 
When  sweeping  gusts  the  soft  west  wind  doth  send 
Among  their  hosts,  so  moved  the  people  then, 
When  ceased  the  shouting  of  the  armed  men. 
For  each  unto  the  other  'gan  to  speak, 
And  o'er  the  tall  men's  heads  some  dame  would  seek 
To  raise  her  child  to  look  upon  the  king. 
And  as  with  smiles  and  laughter  many  a  thing 
They  chattered  through  the  great  square  joyously, 
Each  careless  what  his  neighbor's  words  might  be ; 
It  sounded  like  some  February  mead, 
Where  thick  the  lustred  starlings  creep  and  feed, 
And  each  his  own  song  sings  unto  his  mate, 
Chiding  the  fickle  spring  so  cold  and  late. 

But  through  the  happy  clamour  of  the  folk, 
At  Jason's  bidding,  the  great  trumpet  broke, 
And  great  Echion's  voice  rang  clear  and  strong, 
As  he  cried  silence ;  then  across  the  throng 
Did  Jason  cry  :   "  O  people,  thanked  be  ye, 
That  in  such  wise  ye  give  yourselves  to  me. 


OF  JASON.  265 

And  now,  0  friends,  what  more  is  there  to  say 
But  this  ?     Be  glad,  and  feast  this  happy  day, 
Nor  spend  one  coin  of  your  store  for  this ; 
Nor  shall  the  altars  of  the  high  Gods  miss 
Their  due  thank-offering  :  and  She  chief  of  all, 
Who  caused  that  this  same  happy  time  should  fall, 
Shall  have  a  tithe  of  all  that  'longs  to  me. 

"  And  ye,  0  loved  companions  o'er  the  sea, 
Come  to  my  golden  house,  and  let  us  feast, 
Nor  let  time  weary  us  this  night  at  least ; 
O  !  be  so  glad  that  this  our  happy  day 
For  all  times  past,  all  times  to  come  may  pay." 

He  ceased,  and  one  more  shout  the  people  sent 
Up  to  the  heavens,  as  he  descending  went 
With  the  fair  Colchian  through  the  joyous  folk, 
From  whose  well-ordered  lane  at  times  there  broke 
Some  little  child,  thrust  forward  well  to  see 
The  godlike  leader  of  the  Minyae ; 
Or  here  and  there  forth  would  some  young  man  lean 
To  gaze  upon  the  beauty  of  the  queen 
A  little  nearer,  as  they  passed  him  by. 

Then,  in  such  guise,  they  went  triumphantly 
To  all  the  temples  of  that  city  fair, 
And  royal  gifts  they  gave  the  great  Gods  there, 
But  chiefest  from  the  Queen  of  Heaven's  close 
The  clouds  of  incense  in  the  air  uprose, 
And  chiefly  thither  were  the  white  lambs  led, 
And  there  the  longest,  Jason  bowed  the  head 
Well  garlanded  with  lily  flowers  white. 
But  She,  when  all  these  things  were  done  aright, 
And  Jason  now  had  turned  to  go  away, 
In  midmost  of  that  cloudless  sunny  day 
Bade  Iris  build  her  many-coloured  bow, 
That  She  her  favour  to  the  king  might  show. 

Then  still  more  did  the  royal  man  rejoice, 


266  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  o'er  the  people,  lifting  up  his  voice, 

Cried :   "  See,  Thessalians,  who  is  on  my  side, 

Nor  fear  ye  now  but  plenty  will  abide 

In  your  fair  land,  and  all  folk  speak  of  it, 

From  places  whence  the  wavering  swallows  flit, 

That  they  may  live  with  us  the  sweet  half  year, 

To  lands  where  dwells  the  sluggish  white-felled  bear." 

So  spake  he,  glad  past  words ;  and  for  the  rest 
Did  Juno  love  him  well  since  his  great  quest 
Had  brought  home  bitter  death  on  Pelias, 
And  his  love's  words  had  brought  the  thing  to  pass, 
That  o'er  his  heal  was  hanging,  since  the  day 
When  from  Sidero  dead  he  turned  away, 
And  as  with  Neleus  down  the  steps  he  trod, 
Thought  things  that  fitted  some  undying  God. 

Thence  to  his  father's  tomb  did  Jason  go, 
And  found  the  old  man's  body  laid  alow, 
Within  a  lone,  unkingly  grave,  and  bade 
That  straightway  should  a  royal  tomb  be  made 
To  lay  him  in,  anigh  the  murmuring  sea, 
Wl  ere,  celebrating  their  great  victory, 
They  might  do  honour  to  his  head  recrowned, 
And  'mid  their  shouts  all  mourning  might  be  drowned, 
Nor  gladden  the  slain  Pelias'  lonely  shade 
By  weeping  o'er  the  slaughter  he  had  made. 

Therefrom  unto  his  own  house  Jason  came, 
He  had  not  entered  since  the  night  his  name 
Rang  'twixt  the  marble  walls  triumphantly, 
And  all  folk  set  their  hearts  upon  the  sea. 
So  now  again,  when  shadows  'gan  to  fall 
Still  longer  from  the  west,  within  that  hall 
Once  more  the  heroes  sat  above  their  wine, 
Once  more  they  hearkened  music  nigh  divine, 
Once  more  the  maidens'  flower-scattering  hands 
Seemod  better  prizes  than  well-peopled  lands. 


OF   JASON.  267 

Glorious  and  royal,  now  the  deed  was  done, 
Seemed  in  that  hall  the  face  of  every  one, 
Who,  'twixt  the  thin  plank  and  the  bubbling  sea, 
Had  pulled  the  smooth  oar-handle  past  his  knee. 
Tuneful  each  voice  seemed  as  the  heroes  told 
The  marvels  that  their  eyes  did  erst  behold, 
Unto  some  merchant  of  the  goodly  town, 
Or  some  rich  man  who  on  the  thymy  down 
Fed  store  of  sheep,  and  in  whose  lush  green  mead 
The  heavy-uddered  cows  were  wont  to  feed. 

And  she  who  all  this  world  of  joy  had  made, 
And  dared  so  many  things  all  unafraid, 
Now  sat  a  Queen  beside  her  crowned  King. 
And  as  his  love  increased  with  every  thing 
She  did  or  said,  forgot  her  happy  state 
In  JEiSi  of  old  times,  ere  mighty  fate 
Brought  Argo's  side  from  out  the  dashers  twain, 
Betwixt  the  rainbow  and  the  briny  rain. 
Yet  in  the  midst  of  her  felicity 
She  trembled  lest  another  day  should  see 
Another  fate,  and  other  deeds  for  these, 
Who  hailed  her  not  the  least  of  Goddesses. 

Yet  surely  now,  if  never  more  again, 
Had  she  and  all  these  folk  forgotten  pain, 
And  idle  words  to  them  were  death  and  fear ; 
For  in  the  gathering  evening  could  they  hear 
The  carols  of  the  glad  folk  through  the  town, 
The  song  of  birds  within  the  garden  drown ; 
And  when  the  golden  sun  had  gone  away, 
Still  little  darker  was  the  night  than  day 
Without  the  windows  of  the  goodly  hall. 

But  many  an  hour  after  night  did  fall, 
Though  outside  silence  fell  on  man  and  beast, 
There  still  they  sat,  nor  wearied  of  the  feast ; 


268  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Yea,  ere  they  parted,  glimmering  light  had  come 
From  the  far  mountains,  nigh  the  Colchian's  home, 
And  in  the  twilight  birds  began  to  wake. 

But  the  next  morn,  for  slaughtered  JEson's  sake, 
The  games  began,  with  many  a  sacrifice, 
And,  these  being  all  accomplished,  gifts  of  price 
The  heroes  took  at  Jason's  open  hands, 
And,  going  homewards,  unto  many  lands 
They  bore  the  story  of  their  wandering. 

And  now  is  Jason  mighty  lord  and  king, 
And  wedded  to  the  fairest  queen  on  earth, 
And  with  no  trouble  now  to  break  his  mirth  ; 
And,  loved  by  all,  lives  happy,  free  from  blame, 
Nor  less  has  won  the  promised  meed  of  fame. 
So,  having  everything  he  once  desired 
Within  the  wild,  ere  yet  his  heart  was  fired 
By  Juno's  word,  he  lives  an  envied  man, 
Having  these  things  that  scarce  another  can  ; 
Ease,  love,  and  fame,  and  youth  that  knows  no  dread 
Of  any  horrors  lurking  far  ahead 
Across  the  sunny,  flowered  fields  of  life  :  — 
—  Youth  seeing  no  end  unto  the  joyous  strife. 

And  thus  in  happy  days,  and  rest,  and  peace, 
Here  ends  the  winning  of  the  Golden  Fleece. 


BOOK    XVII. 

SO  ends  the  winning  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
So  ends  the  tale  of  that  sweet  rest  and  peace 
That  unto  Jason  and  his  love  befell ; 
Another  story  now  my  tongue  must  tell, 
And  tremble  in  the  telling.     Would  that  I 


OF  JASON.  269 

Had  but  some  portion  of  that  mastery 

That  from  the  rose-hung  lanes  of  woody  Kent 

Through  these  five  hundred  years  such  songs  have  sent 

To  us,  who,  meshed  within  this  smoky  net 

Of  unrejoicing  labour,  love  them  yet. 

And  thou,  0  Master  !  —  Yea,  my  Master  still, 

Whatever  feet  have  scaled  Parnassus'  hill, 

Since  like  thy  measures,  clear,  and  sweet,  and  strong, 

Thames'  stream  scarce  fettered  bore  the  bream  along 

Unto  the  bastioned  bridge,  his  only  chain.  — 

0  Master,  pardon  me,  if  yet  in  vain 

Thou  art  my  Master,  and  I  fail  to  bring 

Before  men's  eyes  the  image  of  the  thing 

My  heart  is  filled  with  :  thou  whose  dreamy  eyes 

Beheld  the  flush  to  Cressid's  cheeks  arise, 

As  Troilus  rode  up  the  praising  street, 

As  clearly  as  they  saw  thy  townsmen  meet 

Those  who  in  vineyards  of  Poictou  withstood 

The  glittering  horror  of  the  steel-topped  wood. 

Ten  years  have  passed,  since  in  the  market-place 
The  hero  stood  with  flushed  and  conquering  face, 
And  life  before  him  like  one  happy  day ; 
But  many  an  hour  thereof  has  passed  away 
In  mingled  trouble  and  felicity. 
And  now  at  Corinth,  kissed  by  either  sea, 
He  dwells,  not  governed  now  or  governing, 
Since  there  his  kinsman  Creon  is  a  king. 

And  with  him  still  abides  the  Colchian, 
But  little  changed,  since  o'er  the  waters  wan 
She  gazed  upon  the  mountains  that  she  knew, 
Still  lessening  as  the  plunging  Argo  flew 
Over  the  billows  on  the  way  to  Greece. 
But  in  these  ten  sweet  years  of  rest  and  peace 
Two  fair  man-children  has  she  borne  to  him, 
Who,  joyous,  fair  of  face,  and  strong  of  limb, 


270  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Full  oft  shall  hear  the  glorious  story  told 
Of  Argo  and  the  well-won  Fleece  of  Gold, 
By  some  old  mariner ;  and  oft  shall  go 
Where  nigh  the  sea  the  wind-swept  beech-trees  grow, 
And,  with  a  grey  old  woman  tending  them, 
Shall  make  an  ^Ea  of  some  beech-tree's  stem, 
About  whose  roots  there  stands  the  water  black. 
Nor  of  the  fleece  shall  they  have  any  lack, 
For  in  the  bushes  hangs  much  tangled  wool 
From  wandering  sheep  who  seek  the  shadow  cool ; 
And  for  the  dragon  shall  there  be  thereby 
A  many-coloured  snake,  with  glazed  dull  eye, 
Slain  by  the  shepherd ;  so  shall  pass  their  days, 
Whom  folk  look  soon  to  gather  wealth  and  praise. 

And  'midst  these  living  things  has  Argo  found 
A  home  here  also  ;  on  the  spot  of  ground 
'Twixt  Neptune's  temple  and  the  eastern  sea, 
She  looks  across  the  waves  unceasingly  ; 
And  as  their  ridges  draw  on  toward  the  land, 
The  wind  tells  stories  of  the  kingly  band. 
There,  with  the  fixed  and  unused  oars  spread  out 
She  lies,  amidst  the  ghosts  of  song  and  shout, 
And  merry  laughter,  that  were  wont  to  fill 
Her  well-built  hollow,  slowly  dying  still, 
Like  all  that  glorious  company  of  kings 
Who  in  her  did  such  well-remembered  things. 

But  as  the  day  comes  round  when  o'er  the  seas 
She  darted  'twixt  the  blue  Symplegadee, 
And  when  again  she  rushed  across  the  bar, 
With  King  ./Eetes  following  her  afar, 
And  when  at  length  the  heroes  laid  adown 
The  well-worn  oars  at  old  King  ^son's  town,  — 
When,  year  by  year,  these  glorious  days  came  round 
Bright  with  gay  garments  was  that  spot  of  ground, 
And  the  grey  rocks  that  oYrlop  (Ynehrese, 
Sent  echoes  of  sweet  singing  o'er  the  sea. 


OF  JASO.\.  271 

For  then  the  keel  the  maidens  went  about 
Singing  the  songs  of  Orpheus,  and  the  shout 
Of  rough-voiced  sea-folk  ended  every  song ; 
And  then  from  stem  to  stern  they  hung  along 
Garlands  of  flowers,  and  all  the  oars  did  twine 
With  garlands  too,  and  cups  of  royal  wine 
Cast  o'er  her  stem  ;  and  at  the  stern  a  maid, 
Clad  like  to  Juno,  on  the  tiller  laid 
Her  slender  fingers,  while  anigh  the  stem 
Stood  one  with  wings  and  many-coloured  hem 
About  her  raiment,  like  the  messenger 
Who  bears  the  high  Gods'  dreadful  words  with  her, 
And  through  the  sea  of  old  that  ste  n  did  lead. 

Lo,  in  such  wise  they  honoured  that  great  deed, 
But  Jason  did  they  reverence  as  a  God ; 
And  though  his  kinsman  bore  the  ivory  rod 
And  golden  circlet,  little  could  he  do 
Unless  the  great  Thessalian  willed  it  too. 

Yet  therefore  Creon  nowise  bore  him  hate, 
But  reverencing  the  wise  decrees  of  fate, 
Still  honoured  him  the  more ;  and  therewith  thought, 
"  Would  that  this  man  by  some  means  might  be  brought 
To  wed  my  daughter,  since,  when  I  am  dead, 
By  none  but  him  the  people  shall  be  led  !  " 
And  on  this  thought  he  brooded  more  and  more, 
And  'gan  to  hate  the  Colchian  very  sore, 
And  through  the  place,  as  lightly  he  might  do, 
He  spread  ill  tales  of  false  things  and  of  true, 
And  unto  Jason's  self  such  words  did  say 
As  well  he  thought  might  turn  his  heart  away 
From  faith  and  truth ;  and  as  such  oft  will  come, 
When  wise  men  speak  them,  to  a  ready  home, 
So  here  they  did ;  though  soothly  for  his  part, 
He  knew  it  not,  nor  yet  his  restless  heart. 


272  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  on  a  day  it  fell  that  as  they  sat 
In  Creon's  porch,  and  talked  of  this  or  that, 
The  king  said  unto  Jason :   "  Brave  thou  art, 
But  hast  thou  never  fear  within  thine  heart 
Of  what  the  Gods  may  do  for  Pelias  '?  " 
"  Nay,"  Jason  said,  "  let  what  will  come  to  pass, 
His  day  is  past,  and  mine  is  flourishing ; 
But  doubtless  is  an  end  to  everything, 
And  soon  or  late  each  man  shall  have  his  day." 

Then  said  the  king:  "  Neither  did  thine  hand  slay 
The  man  thyself,  or  bring  his  death  about ; 
Let  each  man  bear  his  own  sin  without  doubt. 
Yet  do  I  bid  thee  watch  and  take  good  heed 
Of  what  the  Colchian's  treacheries  may  breed." 

Then  quickly  Jason  turned  his  head  around 
And  said  :   "  What  is  there  dwelling  above  ground 
That  loveth  me  as  this  one  loveth  me  ? 
0  Creon  !  I  am  honoured  here  as  thee  ; 
All  do  my  will  as  if  a  God  I  were ; 
Scarce  cr.n  the  young  men  see  me  without  fear, 
The  elders  without  tears  of  vain  regret. 
And,  certes,  had  this  worshipped  head  been  set 
Upon  some  spike  of  King  Petes'  house, 
But  for  her  tender  love  and  piteous, 
For  me  she  gave  up  country,  kin,  and  name, 
For  me  she  risked  tormenting  and  the  flame, 
The  anger  of  the  Gods  and  curse  of  man  ; 
For  me  she  came  across  the  waters  wan 
Through  many  woes,  and  for  my  sake  did  go 
Alone,  unarmed,  to  my  most  cruel  foe, 
Whom  there  she  slew  by  his  own  daughters'  hands, 
Making  me  king  of  all  my  father's  lands  : 
Note  all  these  things,  and  tell  me  then  to  flee 
From  that  which  threateneth  her  who  loveth  me." 

"Yea,"  said  the  king,  "  to  make  and  to  unmake 
Is  her  delight ;  and  certes  for  thy  sake 
She  did  all  this  thou  sayest,  yea,  and  more  ; 


OF  JASOX.  273 

Seeing  thee  death-doomed  on  a  foreign  shore, 

With  hardy  heart,  but  helpless  ;  a  king's  son, 

But  with  thy  thread  of  life  well-nigh  outrun ; 

Therefore,  I  say,  she  did  all  this  for  thee, 

And  ever  on  the  way  to  Thessaly 

Bade  thee  do  this  or  that,  since  still  ye  were 

As  void  of  helpful  knowledge  as  of  fear. 

All  this  she  did,  and  so  was  more  than  queen 

Of  thee  and  thine  :  but  thou  —  thine  age  is  green, 

Nor  wilt  thou  always  dwell  in  this  fair  town, 

Nor  through  the  wild  wood  hunt  the  quarry  down  — 

Bethink  thee  —  of  the  world  thou  mayst  be  king, 

Holding  the  life  and  death  of  everything, 

Nor  will  she  love  thee  more,  upon  that  day 

When  all  her  part  will  be  but  to  obey ; 

Nor  will  it  then  be  fitting  unto  thee 

To  have  a  rival  in  thy  sovereignty 

Laid  in  thy  bed,  and  sitting  at  thy  board." 

Now  somewhat  Jason  reddened  at  that  word, 
But  said  :   "  0  Creon,  let  the  thing  be  so  ! 
She  shall  be  high  the  while  that  I  am  low, 
And  as  the  Gods  in  heaven  rule  over  me, 
Since  they  are  greater,  in  such  wise  shall  she, 
Who  as  they  gave  me  life,  has  given  me  life, 
And  glorious  end  to  seeming  hopeless  strife." 

Then  Creon  said  :  "  Yea,  somewhat  good  it  were 
If  thou  couldst  lead  that  life,  and  have  no  fear." 
Laughing  he  spoke ;  but  quickly  changed  his  face, 
And  with  knit  brows  he  rose  up  from  his  place, 
And  with  his  hand  on  Jason's  shoulder,  said  :  — 
"  0  careless  man,  too  full  of  hardihead  ! 
O  thou  ease-loving,  little-thinking  man, 
Whate'er  thou  doest,  dread  the  Colchian  ! 
She  will  unmake  thee  yet,  as  she  has  made. 
And  in  a  bloody  grave  shalt  thou  be  laid." 

Then  turning,  to  his  palace  went  the  king, 

24* 


274  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  Jason,  left  alone  and  pondering, 
Felt  in  his  heart  a  vague  and  gnawing  fear, 
Of  unknown  troubles  slowly  drawing  near, 
And,  spite  of  words,  the  thing  that  Creon  said 
Touched  in  his  heart  that  still  increasing  dread, 
And  he  was  moved  by  that  grave  elder's  face, 
For  love  was  dying  in  that  ten  years'  space. 

But  Creon,  sitting  in  his  chamber,  thought, 
"  Surely  I  think  my  hero  may  be  brought 
To  change  his  mate,  for  in  his  heart  I  see 
He  wearies  of  his  great  felicity, 
Like  fools,  for  whom  fair  heaven  is  not  enough, 
And  long  to  stumble  over  forests  rough 
With  chance  of  death :  yet  no  more  will  I  say, 
But  let  the  bright  sun  bring  about  the  day." 

Now  such  an  one  for  daughter  Creon  had 
As  maketh  wise  men  fools,  and  young  men  mad, 
Who  yet  in  Corinth  at  this  time  was  not, 
But  dwelt  afar  upon  a  woody  spot 
Anigh  Cleonae  ;  whither  oft  before 
Had  Jason  gone  for  chasing  of  the  boar 
With  Creon  and  his  folk ;  and  on  a  day 
With  the  old  king  again  he  took  his  way 
To  that  dark  wood,  whereto,  about  the  noon, 
They  came,  well  harbingered  by  thrushes'  tune, 
And  there  straight  fell  to  hunting  of  the  boar ; 
But,  either  through  default  of  woodland  lore, 
Or  bidden  by  the  king,  huntsmen  and  all, 
The  king's  stout  servants  from  the  chase  did  fall, 
And  Jason  with  him  soon  was  left  alone. 
With  that  both  saw  that  nigh  the  day  was  done, 
For  'midst  the  thick  trees  was  it  nigh  twilight : 
Then  Jason  said  :   "  Surely  our  bed  to-night 
Will  be  beneath  these  creaking  boughs  arid  black." 


OF  JASON.  275 

"  Nay,"  said  the  king,  "  surely  we  shall  not  lack 
Soft  golden  beds  such  as  old  men  desire, 
Nor  on  the  hearth  the  crackling  of  the  fire, 
For  hereby  is  a  little  house  of  mine 
Where  dwells  my  daughter  Glauce,  near  the  shrine 
Of  round-armed  Juno  ;  there,  with  two  or  three, 
Matrons  or  maids,  she  guardeth  reverently 
The  altar  of  the  Goddess." 

With  that  word 

Forward  his  jaded  horse  old  Creon  spurred, 
And  Jason  followed  him  ;  and  when  the  sun 
His  burning  course  that  day  had  well-nigh  done, 
The  king  and  Jason  came  anigh  the  place 
Where  stood  the  house  upon  a  swarded  space 
Amidst  thick  trees,  that  hedged  it  like  a  wall, 
Whose  shadows  now  o'er  half  the  place  did  fall, 
While  'twixt  their  stems  the  low  sun  showed  like  fire, 
And  in  the  east  the  still  white  moon  rose  higher. 

But  midmost  there  a  glittering  roof  of  gold 
Slim  shafts  of  pale  blue  marble  did  uphold, 
And  under  it,  wrought  by  the  art  divine, 
Of  some  dead  man,  before  a  well-wrought  shrine, 
The  Goddess  stood,  carved  out  of  purest  gold, 
That  her  fair  altar  thence  she  might  behold ; 
And  round  that  temple  was  a  little  close 
Shut  by  a  gilded  trellis  of  red  rose 
From  off  the  forest  green-sward  ;  and  from  thence 
Carried  by  winds  about  the  beech  wood  dense, 
The  scent  of  lilies  rose  up  in  the  air, 
And  store  of  pea-fowl  was  there  roosting  there, 
Or  moving  lazily  across  the  grass. 

But  from  the  temple  did  the  two  kings  pass 
Unto  a  marble  house  that  was  thereby, 
Not  great  indeed,  but  builded  cunningly, 
And  set  about  with  carven  images, 
Built  in  a  close  of  slim  young  apple-trees  ; 


276  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

A  marble  fountain  was  there  nigh  the  door, 

And  there  the  restless  water  trickled  o'er 

A  smooth-hewn  basin  coloured  like  a  shell, 

And  from  the  wet  pink  lip  thereof  it  fell 

By  many  a  thin  streak  into  a  square  pool, 

From  whence  it  ran  again,  the  grass  to  cool, 

In  a  small  stream  o'er  sand,  and  earth,  and  flint, 

Edged  all  about  with  fragrant  blue-flowered  mint, 

Or  hidden  by  the  flat-leaved  quivering  sedge. 

But  from  the  pool's  smooth-wrought  and  outmost  edge 

There  went  a  marble  step  the  fount  to  meet, 

Well  worn  by  many  a  water-drawer's  feet. 

And  thereon  now  they  saw  a  damsel  stand, 
Holding  the  basin's  lip  with  either  hand, 
While  at  her  feet  a  brazen  ewer  stood  ; 
But  when  she  heard  them  coming  from  the  wood, 
She  turned  about,  and,  seeing  men  near  by, 
Caught  up  the  brazen  vessel  hastily, 
And  swiftly  ran  towards  the  marble  house  ; 
But  Creon,  in  his  voice  imperious, 
Cried  :  "  Hither,  Glauce  !  am  I  grown  so  old, 
That  without  fear  thou  canst  no  more  behold 
Thy  father,  Creon '?     Nay,  come  near,  0  child, 
And  bid  us  welcome  to  the  forest  wild." 

Then  straight  she  stopped,  and,  setting  down  the  urn, 
Unto  her  father  and  his  guest  did  turn, 
While  o'er  his  saddle-bow  old  Creon  bent, 
Rejoicing  in  her  beauty  as  she  went ; 
And  for  one  moment  every  scheme  forgot, 
For  raising  this  thing  and  abasing  that ; 
As  well  he  might,  for  as  in  poor  array 
She  drew  towards  them  at  that  end  of  day, 
With  raiment  fluttering  in  the  evening  breeze, 
She  seemed  like  Her,  the  crown  of  Goddesses, 
Who,  o'er  the  dark  sea,  at  the  sunset  came 
To  be  in  heaven  a  joy,  on  earth  a  flame. 


OF  JASOX.  277 

Blushing,  she  came  to  Croon's  saddle-bow, 

And  kissed  him,  who  said,  smiling  :  "  Fearest  thou 

Thy  father,  grown  the  oldest  of  old  men  ? 

How  wilt  thou  look  upon  this  stranger  then, 

Who  is  no  God,  though  such  he  seems  to  be, 

But  Jason,  leader  of  the  Minyse  ?  " 

Somewhat  she  started  at  the  glorious  name, 

And  o'er  her  face  deeper  the  red  flush  came, 

As  she,  with  upraised  face  and  shamefast  eyes, 

Said  :   "  Welcome,  winner  of  the  guarded  prize  ! 

Good  hap  it  is  indeed  that  thou  art  come 

Unto  my  little-peopled  woodland  home. 

Come  then,  my  lords,  to  what  awaits  you  here  ; 

Not  spiced  Maeotic  wine  or  dainty  cheer 

Your  lips  shall  taste,  but  of  fair  simple  flowers 

Your  drink  shall  savour,  and  your  meat  shall  be 

Red-coated  squirrels  from  the  beechen  tree." 

Then  fain  to  hide  her  eyes  and  blushing  face, 
She  turned  from  them,  and  at  a  gentle  pace 
Unto  the  pillared  porch  she  led  the  twain. 
There  they,  alighting,  the  dark  house  did  gain, 
And  there  they  ate  and  drank,  making  such  cheer 
As  fasting  men  will  do  ;  and  still  anear 
Was  Glauce  to  them,  telling  every  maid 
How  such  and  such  a  thing  should  be  arrayed  ; 
And  ever  the  Thessalian's  eager  eyes 
Did  follow  her,  and  to  his  heart  did  rise 
Vague  feelings  of  a  new-found  happiness. 

But  now  as  the  round  moon  was  growing  less, 
And  waxing  brighter,  and  of  fitting  food 
The  kings  had  eaten  as  they  thought  it  good. 
Then  Creon  said  :   "0  daughter,  straightly  take 
This  full  cup  to  the  hero  for  my  sake, 
And  bid  him  drink  thereof,  and  tell  thee  all 
That  unto  him  at  JEa  did  befall, 
And  what  fate  did  as  still  he  journeyed  home  " 


278  THE  LIFE  AND   DEATH 

Then  unto  Jason  did  the  maiden  come, 
Bearing  the  cup  ;  and  when  he  saw  her  thus, 
The  lapse  of  time  seemed  strange  and  piteous  ; 
For  he  bethought  him  of  that  other  tide, 
When  certain-seeming  death  he  did  abide 
In  King  ^Eetes'  hall ;  and  when  she  drew 
Anigh  unto  him,  back  the  past  years  flew, 
And  he  became  that  man  entrapped  again, 
And  newly  felt,  as  then,  that  joyous  pain, 
And  in  his  hand  as  then  the  cup  he  took, 
With  the  warm  fingers,  and  as  then  her  look 
Sent  fire  through  his  veins  ;  yea,  and  as  then 
He  had  no  heed  of  any  Gods  or  men. 

Therewith  her  musical  sweet  voice  he  heard , 
Speaking  again  the  king  her  father's  word  :  — 
"  0  Jason,  if  it  please  thee,  tell  me  all 
That  unto  thee  at  M&  did  befall, 
And  what  thou  sawedst  as  thou  journeyedst  home, 
And  how  it  happed  thee  to  thy  land  to  come." 

But  ever  as  she  spake  she  gazed  at  him, 
And  with  new  thoughts  her  simple  eyes  did  swim, 
Thinking  her  happy  that  this  man  had  wed  ; 
And  therewithal  she  turned  from  pale  to  red, 
And  red  to  pale.     Then  said  he  :   "  Thou  shalt  know, 
0  fair  king's  daughter,  all  I  have  to  show." 
And  so  the  story  of  the  Fleece  began, 
And  how  fair  Argo  crossed  the  water  wan  ; 
While  from  his  glittering  eyes,  deep  sunk  with  eld, 
The  wily  king  those  beauteous  folk  beheld, 
As  still  from  Jason's  lips  poured  forth  the  tale, 
And  she  sat  listening,  whiles  with  cheeks  grown  pale 
And  parted  lips,  and  whiles  with  downcast  eyes 
And  blushing  for  the  thoughts  that  would  arise 
Uncalled  for ;  and  thus  passed  that  eve  away 
Till  time  of  rest  came.     Then,  until  the  day, 
In  his  fair  silken  bed  did  Jason  dream 
Of  Ar<n)  struggling  with  the  unknown  stream, 


OF   JASON.  279 

And  all  the  wonders  of  their  long-past  quest, 
And  well-known  faces  long-time  laid  to  rest. 

But  when  the  night  was  passed,  and  the  great  sun 
Another  day  for  all  things  had  begun, 
The  kings,  arising,  unto  Corinth  rode. 
But,  ere  they  left  the  woodland  fair  abode, 
Unto  the  Goddess  did  they  sacrifice, 
And  on  her  altar,  in  such  woodland  wise 
As  huntsmen  use,  their  offerings  did  they  lay. 
With  them  was  Glauce  on  that  dawn  of  day, 
Upon  the  left  hand  of  the  ancient  king, 
Unto  the  reverend  Goddess  ministring. 
But  when  they  turned  once  more  unto  the  town, 
The  half-quenched  censer  did  she  lay  adown, 
And  holding  still  the  fresh-plucked  flower-wreath, 
Bade  them  farewell. 

Then  by  thick  wood  and  heath 
They  rode,  and  on  their  journey  Jason  said 
Few  words  and  wandering ;  for  still  that  maid 
Did  he  behold  before  his  waking  eyes, 
And  with  the  oft-recurring  memories 
Of  days  and  things  a  long-time  passed  away 
Her  image  mixed,  and  words  that  she  did  say. 

But  when  upon  the  threshold  of  his  house 
He  met  Medea,  who,  with  amorous 
And  humble  words,  spoke  to  him  greetings  kind, 
He  felt  as  he  whose  eyes  the  fire  doth  blind, 
That  presently  about  his  limbs  shall  twine, 
And  in  her  face  and  calm  grey  eyes  divine 
He  read  his  own  destruction  ;  none  the  less 
In  his  false  heart  fair  Glauce's  loveliness 
Seemed  that  which  he  had  loved  his  whole  life  long, 
And  little  did  he  feel  his  old  love's  wrong. 

Alas  for  truth  !  each  day,  yea,  hour  by  hour, 
He  longed  once  more  to  see  the  beechen  bower, 


280  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  her  who  dwelt  thereby.     Alas,  alas  ! 

Oft  from  his  lips  the  hated  words  would  pass  :  — 

' '  0  wavering  traitor,  still  unsatisfied  ! 
0  false  betrayer  of  the  love  so  tried, 
Fool !  to  cast  off  the  beauty  that  thou  know'st, 
Clear-seeing  wisdom,  better  than  a  host 
Against  thy  foes,  and  truth  and  constancy 
Thou  wilt  not  know  again  whate'er  shall  be  !  " 

So  oft  he  spoke  words  that  were  words  indeed, 
And  had  no  sting,  nor  would  his  changed  heart  heed 
The  very  bitterest  of  them  all,  as  he 
Thought  of  his  woodland  fair  divinity, 
And  of  her  upturned  face,  so  wondering 
At  this  or  that  oft-told  unheeded  thing. 

Yet  whiles,  indeed,  old  memories  had  some  power 
Over  his  heart,  in  such  an  awful  hour 
As  that,  when  darksome  night  is  well-nigh  done, 
And  earth  is  waiting  silent  for  the  sun  ; 
Then  would  he  turn  about  his  mate  to  see, 
From  lips  half  open,  breathing  peacefully, 
And  open,  listless,  the  fair  fingers  laid, 
That  unto  him  had  brought  such  mighty  aid. 
Then,  groaning,  from  her  would  he  turn  away, 
And  wish  he  might  not  see  another  day, 
For  certainly  his  wretched  soul  he  knew, 
And  of  the  cruel  God  his  heart  that  drew. 
But  when  the  bright  day  had  come  round  again, 
AVitli  noise  of  men,  came  foolish  thoughts  and  vain, 
And,  feeding  fond  desire,  would  he  burn 
Unto  Cleonne  his  swift  steps  to  turn. 

Nor  to  these  matters  was  the  Colchian  blind  ; 
And  though  as  yet  his  speech  to  her  was  kind, 
Good  heed  she  took  of  all  his  moody  ways, 
And  how  he  loved  her  not  as  in  past  days  ; 
And  how  lie  shrunk  from  her,  yet  knew  it  not, 
She  noted,  and  the  stammering  words  and  hot. 


OF  JASON.  281 

Wherewith,  as  she  grew  kinder,  still  he  strove 
To  hide  from  her  the  changing  of  his  love. 

Long  time  she  tried  to  shut  her  eyes  to  this, 
Striving  to  save  that  fair  abode  of  Miss  ; 
But  so  it  might  not  be ;  and  day  by  day 
She  saw  the  happy  time  fade  fast  away  ; 
And  as  she  fell  from  out  that  happiness, 
Again  she  grew  to  be  the  sorceress, 
Worker  of  fearful  things,  as  once  she  was, 
When  what  my  tale  has  told  she  brought  to  pass. 

So,  on  a  weary,  hopeless  day,  she  said  :  — 
' '  Ah  !  poor  Medea,  art  thou  then  betrayed 
By  that  thou  trustedst  ?     Art  thou  brought  to  nought 
By  that  which  erst,  with  wonders  strangely  wrought, 
Thou  madest  live  through  happy  days  and  long  ? 
Lo,  now  shall  be  avenged  those  poor  maid's  wrong, 
Who,  in  that  temple  o'er  the  murmuring  sea, 
Ran  maddening  here  and  there ;  and  now  shall  be 
That  word  accomplished  that  I  uttered  then, 
Nor  yet  believed  —  that  to  all  earthly  men, 
In  spite  of  right  and  wrong,  and  love  and  hate, 
One  day  shall  come  the  turn  of  luckless  fate. 
Alas  !  then  I  believed  it  not,  when  I 
Saw  Argo's  painted  prow  triumphantly 
Cleave  the  grey  seas,  and  knew  that  I  it  was, 
My  very  self,  who  brought  those  things  to  pass, 
And  lit  those  eyes  unseen.     How  could  I  know 
Unto  what  cruel  folly  men  will  grow?  " 

She  wept  therewith  —  and  once  more  on  that  night 
She  stole  abroad  about  the  mirk  midnight ; 
Once  more  upon  a  wood's  edge  from  her  feet 
She  stripped  her  shoes  and  bared  her  shoulder  sweet ; 
Once  more  that  night  over  the  lingering  fire 
She  hung  with  sick  heart  famished  with  desire  ; 
Once  more  she  turned  back  when  her  work  was  done ; 

25 


282  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Once  more  she  fled  the  coming  of  the  sun  ; 

Once  more  she  reached  her  dusky,  glimmering  room  ; 

Once  more  she  lighted  up  the  dying  gloom  ; 

Once  more  she  lay  adown,  and  in  sad  sleep 

Her  weary  body  and  sick  heart  did  steep. 

Alas  !  no  more  did  tender  Love  come  down 

And  smooth  her  troubled  face  of  fear  and  frown ; 

No  more  with  hope  half-opened  lips  did  smile. 

Not  long  she  slept,  but  in  a  little  while, 
Sighing,  she  rose,  when  now  the  sun  was  high, 
And,  going  to  her  wallet  wearily, 
Took  forth  a  phial  thence,  which  she  unstopped, 
And  a  small  driblet  therefrom  slowly  dropped 
Upon  a  shred  of  linen,  which  straightway 
In  the  sun's  gleaming  pathway  did  she  lay ; 
But  when  across  it  the  first  sunbeam  came, 
Therefrom  there  burst  a  colourless  bright  flame, 
Which  still  burnt  on  when  every  shred  was  gone 
Of  that  which  seemed  to  feed  the  flame  alone ; 
Nor  burnt  it  less  for  water,  that  she  threw 
Across  it  and  across.     Thereon  she  drew 
A  linen  tunic  from  a  brazen  chest, 
Wherein  lay  hid  the  fairest  and  the  best 
Of  all  her  raiment ;  this  she  held,  and  said  :  — 
"  Jason,  thy  love  is  fair  by  likelihead, 
Pity  it  were  to  hide  her  over-much, 
And  when  this  garment  her  fair  limbs  shall  touch, 
So  will  it  hide  them  as  the  water  green 
Hid  Cithersea,  when  she  first  was  seen." 

Soothly  she  spoke,  because  the  web  was  fair 
And  thin,  and  delicate  beyond  compare, 
And  had  been  woven  in  no  common  loom, 
For  she  herself  within  her  fair-hung  room 
Had  set  the  warp  and  watched  the  fine  weft  glide 
Up  from  the  roller,  while  from  side  to  side, 
Scarce  seen,  the  shuttle  flew  from  fingers  thin 


OF   JASON.  283 

Of  a  dark  Indian  maid,  whom  gold  did  win 

From  some  Phoenician,  that  loved  nought  but  gold. 

But  sighing  now  the  raiment  to  behold, 
She  poured  into  a  well-wrought  bowl  of  brass 
The  thing  that  in  the  phial  hidden  was, 
And  therein,  fold  by  fold,  the  linen  laid, 
Then  for  a  little  while  her  hands  she  stayed, 
Till  it  had  drunk  the  moisture  thoroughly; 
Whereon  she  took  it  forth  and  laid  it  by, 
Far  from  the  sunlight,  on  her  royal  bed, 
Saying  :  "  0  thou  who  hast  the  hardihead, 
Whoe'er  thou  art,  to  take  from  me  mine  own, 
It  had  been  good  for  thee  that  of  smooth  stone 
Thy  limbs  were  wrought,  nor  made  to  suffer  pain , 
If  this  morn's  deed  has  not  been  quite  in  vain." 

So  saying,  did  she  mutter  moodily, 
Watching  the  spread-out  linen  slowly  dry  ; 
At  last  she  took  it,  and  within  a  bright 
Fair  silver  casket  hid  it  from  the  sight. 

This  done,  about  the  noble  house  she  went, 
And  bitterly  full  oft  her  eyes  she  bent 
On  man  and  maid,  and  things  grown  old  and  dear , 
'Midst  hope  of  rest,  no  longer  hoped  for  there. 

And,  meantime,  Jason,  by  the  wily  king 
Still  watched,  had  little  joy  in  anything, 
For  while  with  fierce  desire  his  heart  still  burned, 
Yet  now  again  for  rest  and  peace  he  yearned  ; 
Nor  praise  of  other  men  yet  counted  nought, 
And  somewhat  of  the  coming  days  he  thought, 
And  helpless  eld  with  many  memories 
Beset,  and  pictures  of  reproachful  eyes ; 
Yet  thinking  of  the  chain  of  days  and  nights 
Stretched  out  all  barren  of  once-hoped  delights, 
A  sorry  thing  life  seemed  to  him  to  be, 


284  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  one  path  only  from  that  misery 

Seemed  open  to  him  —  where  the  fair  girl  stood, 

Within  the  shadow  of  the  beechen  wood. 

But  while  he  wavered  thus  'twixt  love  and  fear, 
And  something  of  the  old  time  grown  too  dear 
To  cast  off  lightly,  Creon  noted  all. 
And  surely  now  had  hope  that  should  befall 
He  long  had  wished  for,  and  in  such  wise  wrought 
That  all  unto  an  ending  soon  be  brought. 

Therefore  it  happed  that  on  a  July  morn, 
Jason  at  last,  by  many  troubles  torn, 
Mounted  his  horse,  and  toward  Cleonae  turned. 
But  as  with  pale  face,  and  a  heart  that  burned 
To  end  all  things  in  sweet  love  at  the  last, 
He  by  the  palace  of  King  Creon  passed, 
There  Creon  stood  before  the  door,  and  said  :  — 
"  Where  goest  thou,  0  Jason  ?     By  my  head, 
Wilt  thou  not  sit  at  our  high  feast  to-day  V 
What  do'st  thou  then  upon  the  stony  way 
That  leads  to  Argolis?  " 

"0  King,"  said  he, 
"  I  am  not  meet  for  your  solemnity, 
Because  the  Gods  to-day  have  made  me  sad  ; 
Nor  knew  I  yet  what  feast  here  should  be  had, 
But  thought  to-day  to  see  my  arrows  fly 
Within  the  green  glades  of  the  woods  hereby." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  king;  "  full  surely  many  a  day 
Of  summer  will  there  be  to  play  this  play, 
But  on  this  day  to  Cithernea's  house 
Folk  go,  both  maids  and  young  men  amorous  ; 
Yea,  elders  like  to  me  will  hold  this  feast, 
Who  in  their  foolish  hearts  can  mourn  at  least 
For  days  and  things  that  never  come  again. 
Yet,  for  myself,  I  shall  not  feast  in  vain , 
For  on  this  day  my  daughter  comes  to  me, 
That  nigh  Cleoiux)  erewhilc  thou  didst  see, 


OF  JASOX.  285 

And  she  too  goes  with  flower-bearing  hands 
To  kiss  the  foot  that  on  the  tortoise  stands." 

So  saying,  did  his  ancient  wily  eyes 
Behold  the  blood  to  Jason's  brow  arise, 
And  inwardly  he  laughed  ;  but  Jason  said  :  — 
"  Yea,  then,  0  king,  to  chase  my  drearihead, 
This  were  a  fair  sight  for  mine  eyes  to  see ; 
And  since  thou  wiliest,  I  will  go  with  thee." 

Then  'lighting  from  his  horse,  beside  the  king 
He  stood,  and  talked  of  this  or  that  light  thing, 
And  saw  meanwhile  full  many  a  broad-wheeled  wain, 
Filled  with  fair  flowers  from  the  unshorn  plain, 
Go  toward  the  temple  of  the  Cyprian  queen, 
And  youths  and  maidens,  wreathed  about  with  green, 
Pass,  singing  carols  through  the  listening  street. 

At  last  the  king  said  :   "  Come,  and  let  us  meet 
This  joyous  band  within  the  very  fane." 
So  forth  they  went,  and  soon  the  place  did  gain, 
Where  the  fair  temple  of  the  Goddess  rose 
From  'midst  a  grassy  apple-planted  close. 
But  each  side  of  the  door  a  maid  there  stood, 
Clad  in  thin  silken  raiment  red  as  blood, 
Who  had  by  her  a  gilded  basket  light, 
Filled  full  of  flowers  woven  for  delight, 
Wherefrom  unto  the  passing  kings  they  gave 
Wreaths  bound  with  gold,  that  somewhat  they  might  have 
To  offer  to  the  dread  divinity, 
Whose  image,  wrought  of  silver  cunningly, 
Stood  'neath  a  canopy  of  gleaming  gold 
Midmost  the  place,  where  damsels  fair  did  hold 
Baskets  of  flowers,  or  swung  censers  high  ; 
Then  to  the  precious  shrine  they  drew  anigh, 
And  forth  stood  Creon,  and  the  fragrant  wreath 
Laid  on  the  altar,  and  beneath  his  breath 
Some  prayer  he  muttered  ;  and  next  Jason  laid 
His  gift  by  Creon's,  but  of  much  afraid, 

25* 


286  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

And  hoping  much,  he  made  not  any  prayer 

Unto  the  Goddess ;  then  amid  the  fair 

Slirn  pillars  did  he  stand  beside  the  king, 

Confused  as  in  a  dream,  and  wondering 

How  all  would  end.     But  as  they  waited  thus, 

Within  that  fragrant  place  and  amorous, 

Languid  grew  Jason  with  the  flowers'  scent, 

And  with  the  incense-cloud  that  ever  went 

Unto  the  half-seen  golden  roof  above, 

Amongst  whose  glimmering  the  grey-winged  dove 

Hung  crooning  o'er  his  wrongs  ;  moreover  there 

The  temple-damsels  passed  them,  shy  and  fair, 

With  white  limbs  shining  through  their  thin  attire, 

And  amorous  eyes,  the  hearts  of  men  to  fire, 

Beneath  their  heavy  crowns  of  roses  red  ; 

And  veiled  sweet  voices  through  the  place  did  shed 

Strange  fitful  music,  telling  more  than  words, 

Confused  by  twitter  of  the  restless  birds 

Within  the  temple-eaves,  and  by  the  doves, 

Who  'mid  the  pillars  murmured  of  their  loves. 

But  when  the  pleasure  of  that  temple  fair 
Had  sunk  into  his  soul,  upon  the  air 
Was  borne  the  sound  of  flutes  from  folk  outside, 
And  soon  the  greatest  doors  were  opened  wide, 
And  all  the  rout  of  worshippers  poured  in, 
Clad  in  fair  raiment,  summer-like  and  thin, 
And  holding  wreaths,  part  twined  of  fragrant  flowers  — 
The  children  of  the  soft,  sweet  April  showers  — 
And  part  of  blossoms  wrought  in  ruddy  gold. 
Now  back  the  incense  from  the  water  rolled 
At  their  incoming,  driven  by  the  wind, 
And  round  the  pillars  of  the  place  it  twined, 
Enwrapping  Jason,  so  that  faint  and  dim 
The  fair  show  of  the  maidens  was  to  him, 
As  each  upon  the  altar  laid  adown 
The  flowers  mingled  with  the  golden  crown, 
And  prayed  her  prayer,  then  passed  behind  the  shrine. 


OF  JASON.  287 

At  last  from  'midst  that  cloud  did  Venus  shine 
Before  the  eyes  of  the  Thessalian, 
Who,  with  fixed  eyes,  and  lips  grown  thin  and  wan, 
Stared  at  the  image,  little  though  he  saw, 
But  at  her  feet  a  sweet  foce,  grave  with  awe, 
Just  bending  over  toward  the  silver  feet, 
Which  Grlauce  with  a  timid  kiss  did  greet, 
And  this  being  done,  drew  backward,  murmuring 
Her  prayer  to  Venus  :  "  Goddess,  a  small  thing 
Before  this  altar  do  I  ask  of  thee, 
That  I  my  hero  and  my  love  may  see, 
That  I  "  —  but  therewithal  her  face  she  raised, 
And  met  his  hungry  eyes  that  on  her  gazed, 
And  stopped  all  trembling,  letting  fall  adown 
The  hand  that  held  the  gold-enwoven  crown. 

Yet  little  anger  Venus  had  therefor, 
But  rather  smiled  to  see  her  learn  her  lore 
Within  her  house  upon  her  festal  day. 

But  now  upon  the  altar  did  she  lay 
Her  ottering,  and  yet  she  finished  not 
Her  prayer  begun,  though  in  her  poor  heart,  hot 
With  thoughts  of  love,  full  many  a  prayer  she  prayed. 

And  now  was  all  that  pageant  well  arrayed 
To  pass  about  the  temple,  and  her  place 
Did  Glauce  take  with  flushed  and  eager  face ; 
But  on  her  finger  did  she  loose  a  ring, 
Which  that  same  day  the  wise  Corinthian  king 
Had  given  her  ;  therewith  she  went  along, 
Murmuring  faint  words  amidst  her  fellows'  song. 

Then  past  the  kings  the  long  procession  swept, 
And  somewhat  from  the  pillars  Jason  stepped, 
Seeking  a  sign  from  that  desired  face ; 
And  as  the  damsels  at  a  gentle  pace 
Went  by  him,  and  for  fear  of  him  and  awe 
Shrunk  back,  and  with  their  slender  hands  did  draw 
Closer  about  them  the  thin  fragrant  weed, 


288  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Still  nought  of  all  their  beauty  did  he  heed, 

But  into  Glance's  eyes  appealingly 

Still  gazed,  who,  trembling  like  some  snow-trapped  dove, 

From  her  soft  eyes  sent  forth  one  look  of  love, 

Then  dropped  the  lids,  as,  blind  with  love  and  shame, 

Unto  the  place  where  stood  the  kings  she  came. 

And  there  her  hand  that  down  beside  her  hung 

She  raised  a  little,  and  her  faltering  tongue 

Just  framed  the  words  :  "  0  love,  for  thee,  for  thee  ! " 

And  with  that  word  she  trembled  piteously, 

In  terror  at  the  sound  of  her  own  voice. 

And  much  did  wily  Croon  then  rejoice, 

Looking  askance,  and  feigning  to  see  nought, 

When  he  beheld  those  hands  together  brought. 

But  Jason,  when  those  fingers  touched  his  own, 
Forgat  all  joys  that  he  had  ever  known  ; 
And  when  her  hand  left  his  hand  with  the  ring, 
Still  in  the  palm,  like  some  lost,  stricken  thing, 
He  stood  and  stared,  as  from  his  eyes  she  passed. 
And  from  that  hour  all  fear  away  was  cast, 
All  memory  of  the  past  time,  all  regret 
For  days  that  did  those  changed  days  beget, 
And  therewithal  adown  the  wind  he  flung 
The  love  whereon  his  yearning  heart  once  hung. 

Ah  !  let  me  turn  the  page,  nor  chronicle 
In  many  words  the  death  of  faith,  or  tell 
Of  meetings  by  the  newly-risen  moon, 
Of  passionate  silence  'midst  the  brown  birds'  tune, 
Of  wild  tears  wept  within  the  noontide  shade, 
Of  wild  vows  spoken,  that  of  old  were  made 
For  other  ears,  when,  amidst  other  flowers, 
He  wandered  through  the  love-begetting  hours. 
Suffice  it,  that  unhappy  was  each  day 
Which  without  speech  from  Glauce  passed  away ; 
And  troublous  dreams  would  visit  him  at  night, 


OF  JASOX.  289 

When  day  had  passed  all  barren  of  her  sight. 
And  at  the  last,  that  Creon,  the  old  king, 
Being  prayed  with  gifts,  and  joyful  of  the  thing, 
Had  given  a  day  when  these  twain  should  be  wed. 

Meanwhile,  the  once-loved  sharer  of  his  bed 
Knew  all  at  last,  and  fierce  tormenting  fire 
Consumed  her  as  the  dreadful  day  drew  nigher, 
And  much  from  other  lips  than  his  she  heard, 
Till,  on  a  day,  this  dreadful,  blighting  word, 
Her  eyes  beheld  within  a  fair  scroll  writ, 
And  'twixt  her  closed  teeth  still  she  muttered  it :  — 

"  Depart  in  peace  !  and  take  great  heaps  of  gold, 
For  nevermore  thy  body  will  I  fold 
Within  these  arms.     Let  Gods  wed  Goddesses, 
And  sea-folk  wed  the  women  of  the  seas, 
And  men  wed  women ;  but  thee,  who  can  wed 
And  dwell  with  thee  without  consuming  dread, 

0  wise  kin  of  the  dreadful  sorceress ! 

And  yet,  perchance  thy  beauty  still  may  bless 
Some  man  to  whom  the  world  seems  small  and  poor, 
And  who  already  stands  beside  his  door, 
Armed  for  the  conquest  of  all  earthly  things. 

"  Lo,  such  an  one,  the  vanquisher  of  kings, 
And  equal  to  the  Gods,  should  be  thy  mate, 
But  me,  who  for  a  peaceful  end  but  wait, 
Desiring  nought  but  love  —  canst  thou  love  me  ? 
Or  can  I  give  my  whole  heart  up  to  thee  ? 

' '  I  hear  thee  talk  of  old  days  thou  didst  know  — 
Are  they  not  gone  'i  —  wilt  thou  not  let  them  go, 
Nor  to  their  shadows  still  cling  desperately, 
Longing  for  things  that  never  more  can  be  ? 

"  What !  wilt  thou  blame  me  still  that  the  times  change  ? 
Once  through  the  oak-wood  happy  did  I  range, 
And  thought  no  ill ;  but  then  came  over  me 
Madness,  I  know  not  why,  and  o'er  the  sea 

1  needs  must  go  in  strife  to  win  me  fame, 


2 90  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

* 

And  certos  won  it,  and  my  envied  name 
Was  borne  with  shouts  about  the  towns  of  Greece. 

"  All  that  has  vanished  now,  and  my  old  peace, 
Through  lapse  of  changing  years,  has  come  to  me. 
Once  more  I  seem  the  woodland  paths  to  see, 
Tunes  of  old  songs  are  ringing  in  mine  ears, 
Heard  long  ago  in  that  place  free  from  fears, 
Where  no  one  wept  above  his  fellow  dead, 
And  looked  at  death  himself  with  little  dread. 
The  times  are  changed,  with  them  is  changed  my  heart r 
Nor  in  my  life  canst  thou  have  any  part, 
Nor  can  I  live  in  joy  and  peace  with  thee, 
Nor  yet,  for  all  thy  words,  canst  thou  love  me. 

"  Yet,  is  the  world  so  narrow  for  us  twain 
That  all  our  life  henceforth  must  be  but  vain  ? 
Nay,  for  departing  shalt  thou  be  a  queen 
Of  some  great  world,  fairer  than  I  have  seen, 
And  wheresoe'er  thou  goest  shalt  thou  fare 
As  one  for  whom  the  G-ods  have  utmost  care." 

Yea,  she  knew  all,  yet  when  these  words  she  read, 
She  felt  as  though  upon  her  bowed-down  head 
Had  fallen  a  misery  not  known  before, 
And  all  seemed  light  that  erst  her  crushed  heart  bore, 
For  she  was  wrapped  in  uttermost  despair, 
And  motionless  within  the  chamber  fair 
She  stood,  as  one  struck  dead  and  past  all  thought. 

But  as  she  stood,  a  sound  to  her  was  brought 
Of  children's  voices,  and  she  'gan  to  wail 
With  tearless  eyes,  and,  from  writhed  lips  and  pale, 
Faint  words  of  woe  she  muttered,  meaningless, 
But  such  as  such  lips  utter  none  the  less. 
Then  all  at  once  thoughts  of  some  dreadful  thing 
Back  to  her  mind  some  memory  seemed  to  bring, 
As  she  beheld  the  casket  gleaming  fair, 
\V herein  was  laid  that  she  was  wont  to  wear, 


OF  JASON.  291 

That  in  the  philter  lay  that  other  morn, 
And  therewithal  unto  her  heart  was  borne 
The  image  of  two  lovers,  side  by  side. 

Then  with  a  groan  the  fingers  that  did  hide 
Her  tortured  face  slowly  she  drew  away, 
And  going  up  to  where  her  tablets  lay, 
Fit  for  the  white  hands  of  the  Goddesses, 
Therein  she  wrote  such  piteous  words  as  these  :  — 

"  Would  God  that  Argo's  brazen-banded  mast 
'Twixt  the  blue  clashing  rocks  had  never  passed 
Unto  the  Colchian  land  !     Or  would  that  I 
Had  had  such  happy  fortune  as  to  die 
Then,  when  I  saw  thee  standing  by  the  Fleece, 
Safe  on  the  long-desired  shore  of  Greece ! 
Alas,  0  Jason  !  for  thy  cruel  praise  ! 
Alas,  for  all  the  kindness  of  past  days ! 
That  to  thy  heart  seems  but  a  story  told 
Which  happed  to  other  folk  in  times  of  old. 
But  unto  me,  indeed,  its  memory 
Was  bliss  in  happy  hours,  and  now  shall  be 
Such  misery  as  never  tongue  can  tell. 

"  Jason,  I  heed  thy  cruel  message  well, 
Nor  will  I  stay  to  vex  thee,  nor  will  stay 
Until  thy  slaves  thrust  me,  thy  love,  away. 
Be  happy  !  think  that  I  have  never  been  — 
Forget  these  eyes,  that  none  the  less  have  seen 
Thy  hands  take  life  at  my  hands,  and  thy  heart 
O'erflow  in  tears,  when  needs  was  we  should  part 
But  for  a  little  ;  though,  upon  the  day 
When  I  for  evermore  must  go  away, 
I  think,  indeed,  thou  wilt  not  weep  for  this ; 
Yea,  if  thou  weepest  then,  some  honeyed  kiss 
From  other  lips  shall  make  thy  grey  eyes  wet, 
Betwixt  the  words  that  bid  thee  to  forget 
Thou  ever  hast  loved  aught  but  her  alone. 


292  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

"  Yet  of  all  times  mayst  thou  remember  one, 
The  second  time  that  ever  thou  and  I 
Had  met  alone  together  —  mournfully 
The  soft  wind  murmured  on  that  happy  night, 
The  round  moon,  growing  low,  was  large  and  bright, 
As  on  my  father's  marble  house  it  gleamed, 
While  from  the  fane  a  baneful  light  outstreamed, 
Lighting  the  horror  of  that  prodigy, 
The  only  fence  betwixt  whose  wrath  and  thee 
Was  this  poor  body.     Ah  !  thou  knowest  then 
How  thou  beheld'st  the  shadows  of  thy  men 
Steal  silently  towards  Argo's  painted  head. 
Thou  knowest  yet  the  whispered  words  I  said 
Upon  that  night  —  thou  never  canst  forget 
That  happy  night  of  all  nights.     Ah  !  and  yet 
Why  make  I  these  long  words,  that  thou  the  more 
Mayst  hate  me,  who  already  hat'st  me  sore, 
Since  'midst  thy  pleasure  I  am  grown  a  pain. 

"  Be  happy  !  for  thou  shalt  not  hear  again 
My  voice,  and  with  one  word  this  scroll  is  done  — 
Jason,  I  love  thee,  yea,  love  thee  alone  — 
God  help  me,  therefore  !  —  and  would  God  that  I. 
Such  as  thou  sayst  I  am,  were  verily, 
Then  what  a  sea  of  troubles  shouldst  thou  feel 
Rise  up  against  thy  life  !  how  shouldst  thou  steel 
Thy  heart  to  bear  all,  failing  at  the  last ! 
Then  wouldst  thou  raise  thine  head,  o'erwhelmed,  down 
cast, 

And  round  about  once  more  shouldst  look  for  me, 
Who  led  thee  o'er  strange  land  and  unknown  sea. 

"  And  not  in  vain,  O  dearest !  not  in  vain  ! 
Would  I  not  come  and  weep  at  all  thy  pain, 
That  I  myself  had  wrought  V  would  I  not  raise 
Thy  burdened  head  with  hopes  of  happy  days  ? 
Would  T  riot  draw  thcc  forth  from  all  thy  woe? 
And  fearless  by  thy  sido  would  T  not  go, 


OF  JASON.  293 

As  once  I  went,  through  many  unknown  lands, 
When  I  had  saved  thec  from  my  father's  hands  ? 

"  All  would  I  do,  that  I  have  done  erewhile, 
To  have  thy  love  once  more,  and  feel  thy  smile* 
As  freed  from  snow  about  the  first  spring  days 
The  meadows  feel  the  young  sun's  fickle  rays. 

"  But  I  am  weak,  and  past  all,  nor  will  I 
Pray  any  more  for  kindly  memory ; 
Yet  shalt  thou  have  one  last  gift  more  from  me, 
To  give  thy  new  love,  since  men  say  that  she 
Is  fairer  than  all  things  man  can  behold. 

"  Within  this  casket  lies  in  many  a  fold 
Raiment  that  my  forgotten  limbs  did  press, 
When  thou  wert  wont  to  praise  their  loveliness. 
Fear  not  to  take  it  from  the  sorceress'  hands, 
Though  certainly  with  balms  from  many  lands 
Is  it  made  fragrant,  wondrous  with  a  charm 
To  guard  the  wearer's  body  from  all  harm. 

"  Upon  the  morn  that  she  shall  make  thee  glad, 
With  this  fair  tunic  let  her  limbs  be  clad, 
But  see  that  no  sun  falls  upon  its  folds 
Until  her  hand  the  king,  her  father,  holds, 
To  greet  thine  eyes :  then,  when  in  godlike  light 
She  shines,  with  all  her  beauty  grown  so  bright, 
That  eyes  of  men  can  scarcely  gaze  thereon  — 
Then,  when  thy  new  desire  at  last  is  won  — 
Then,  wilt  thou  not  a  little  think  of  me, 
Who  saved  thy  life  for  this  felicity  ?  " 

She  ceased,  and  moaning  to  herself  she  said  :  — 
"  Ah  !  when  will  all  be  ended  V     If  the  dead 
Have  unto  them  some  little  memory  left 
Of  things  that  while  they  lived  Fate  from  them  reft, 
Ere  life  itself  was  reft  from  them  at  last, 

to  God  these  days  at  least  were  past, 
And  all  be  done  that  here  must  needs  be  done  ! 

26 


294  TIIE  LIFE  AND 

11  Ah  !  shall  I,  living  underneath  the  sun, 
I  wonder,  wish  for  anything  again, 
Or  ever  know  what  pleasure  means,  and  pain  ?  — 
—  And  for  these  deeds  I  do ;  and  thou  the  first, 
0  woman,  whose  young  beauty  has  so  cursed 
My  hapless  life,  at  least  I  save  thee  this  — 
The  slow  descent  to  misery  from  bliss, 
With  bitter  torment  growing  day  by  day, 
And  faint  hope  lessening  till  it  fades  away 
Into  dull  waiting  for  the  coming  blow. 
But  thou,  who  nought  of  coming  fate  dost  know 
One  overwhelming  fear,  one  agony, 
And  in  a  little  minute  shalt  thou  be 
Where  thou  wouldst  be  in  threescore  years  at  most, 
And  surely  but  a  poor  gift  thou  hast  lost. 
The  new-made  slave,  the  toiler  on  the  sea, 
The  once  rich  fallen  into  poverty, 
In  one  hour  knows  more  grief  than  thou  canst  know ; 
And  many  a  one  there  is  who  fain  would  go 
And  try  their  fortune  in  the  unknown  life 
If  they  could  win  some  ending  to  this  strife, 
Unlooked-for,  sudden,  as  thine  end  shall  be. 
Kindly  I  deal  with  thee,  mine  enemy ; 
Since  swift  forgetfulness  to  thee  I  send. 
But  thou  shalt  die  —  his  eyes  shall  see  thine  end  — 
Ah  !  if  thy  death  alone  could  end  it  all ! 

"But  ye  —  shall  I  behold  you  when  leaves  fall, 
In  some  sad  evening  of  the  autumn-tide  ? 
Or  shall  I  have  you  sitting  by  my  side 
Amidst  the  feast,  so  that  folk  stare  and  say, 
"  Sure  the  grey  wolf  has  seen  the  quceu  to-day  "  ? 
What !  when  I  kneel  in  temples  of  the  Gods, 
Must  I  bethink  me  of  the  upturned  sods, 
And  hear  a  voice  say,  "  Mother,  wilt  thou  come 
And  see  us  resting  in  our  new-made  home, 


OF  JASON.  295 

Since  thou  wert  used  to  make  us  lie  full  soft, 

Smoothing  our  pillows  many  a  time  and  oft  ? 

0  mother,  now  no  dainty  food  we  need, 

Whereof  of  old  thou  usedst  to  have  such  heed. 

0  mother,  now  we  need  no  gown  of  gold, 

Nor  in  the  winter  time  do  we  grow  cold ; 

Thy  hands  would  bathe  us  when  we  were  thine  own, 

Now  doth  the  rain  wash  every  shining  bone. 

No  pedagogue  we  need,  for  surely  heaven 

Lies  spread  above  us,  with  the  planets  seven, 

To  teach  us  all  its  lore.' 

Ah  !  day  by  day 

Would  I  have  hearkened  all  the  folk  would  say. 
Ah  !  in  the  sweet  beginning  of  your  days 
Would  I  have  garnered  every  word  of  praise : 
'  What  fearless  backers  of  the  untamed  steed, 
What  matchless  spears,  what  loyal  friends  at  need, 
What  noble  hearts,  how  bountiful  and  free, 
How  like  their  father  on  the  troublous  sea  ! ' 

"  0  sons,  with  what  sweet  counsels  and  what  tears 
Would  I  have  hearkened  to  the  hopes  and  fears 
Of  your  first  loves  !  what  rapture  had  it  been 
Your  dear  returning  footsteps  to  have  seen 
Amidst  the  happy  warriors  of  the  land  ! 
But  now  —  but  now  —  this  is  a  little  hand 
Too  often  kissed  since  love  did  first  begin 
To  win  such  curses  as  it  yet  shall  win, 
When  after  all  bad  deeds  there  comes  a  worse  ; 
Praise  to  the  Gods !  ye  know  not  how  to  curse. 

"  But  when  in  some  dim  land  we  meet  again, 
Will  ye  remember  all  the  loss  and  pain  ? 
Will  ye  the  form  of  children  keep  for  aye 
With  thoughts  of  men?  and  'Mother,'  will  ye  say, 
'  Why  didst  thou  slay  us  ere  we  came  to  know 
That  men  die  ?  hadst  thou  waited  until  now, 
An  easy  thing  it  had  been  then  to  die, 


296  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

For  in  the  thought  of  immortality 

Do  children  play  about  the  flowery  meads, 

And  win  their  heaven  with  a  crown  of  weeds.' 

"  0  children  !  that  I  would  have  died  to  save, 
How  fair  a  life  of  pleasure  might  ye  have, 
But  for  your  mother  !  —  nay,  for  thee,  for  thee, 
For  thee,  0  traitor  !  who  didst  bring  them  here 
Into  this  cruel  world,  this  lovely  bier 
Of  youth  and  love,  and  joy  and  happiness, 
That  unforeseeing  happy  fools  still  bless." 

Amid  these  wild  words  had  the  evening  come 
Of  the  last  day  in  that  once  happy  home ; 
So,  rising,  did  she  take  the  casket  fair, 
And  gave  it  to  a  faithful  slave  to  bear, 
With  all  those  wailing  words  that  she  had  writ 
To  Jason,  her  love  once ;  then  did  she  sit 
Within  that  chamber,  with  her  heavy  head 
Laid  on  her  arms,  and  scarce  more  than  the  dead 
She  moved,  for  many  hours,  till  at  last 
A  stupor  over  her  some  kind  God  cast, 
So  that  she  slept,  and  had  forgetfulness 
A  little  while  from  fury  and  distress. 

But  Jason,  when  he  read  that  bitter  word, 
Was  sore  ashamed,  and  in  his  ears  he  heard 
Words  than  men  durst  not  speak  before  his  face  ; 
Therewith,  for  very  shame,  that  silver  case 
And  what  it  held  he  sent  unto  his  bride, 
And  therewithal  this  word  :  "  Whatso  betide, 
Let  not  the  sun  shine  on  it  till  the  hour 
When  thou  hast  left  for  aye  thy  maiden  bower, 
And  with  the  king  thou  staridest  in  the  hall. 
Then  unto  thee  shall  all  good  things  befall." 

So  to  his  rest  he  went,  but,  sooth  to  sny, 
He  slept  but  little  till  the  dawn  of  day, 
So  troubled  was  his  mind  with  many  a  thing, 


OF  JASON.  297 

And  in  his  ears  long-spoken  words  did  ring : 
"  Good  speed,  0  traitor  !  who  shall  think  to  wed 
Soft  limbs  and  white,  and  find  thy  royal  bed 
Dripping  with  blood  and  burning  up  with  fire." 

So  there,  'twixt  fear  and  shame  and  strong  desire, 
Sleepless  he  lay  until  the  day  began  — 
The  conqueror,  the  king,  the  envied  man. 

But  on  the  chamber  where  sweet  Grlauce  lay, 
Fair  broke  the  dawning  of  that  dreadful  day, 
And  fairer  from  her  bed  did  she  arise, 
And  looking  down  with  shamefast  timid  eyes, 
Beheld  the  bosom  that  no  man  had  seen, 
And  round  limbs  worthy  of  the  Sea-born  Queen. 
With  that  she  murmured  words  of  joy  and  love, 
No  louder  than  the  grey,  pink-footed  dove, 
When  at  the  dawn  he  first  begins  his  tale, 
Not  knowing  if  he  means  a  song  or  wail. 

Then  soon  her  maidens  came,  and  every  rite 
That  was  the  due  of  that  slim  body  white, 
They  wrought  with  careful  hands ;  and  last  they  took 
Medea's  gift,  and  all  the  folds  outshook, 
And,  in  a  cool  room  looking  toward  the  north, 
They  clad  the  queen  therewith,  nor  brought  her  forth 
Till  over  all  a  gold  cloak  they  had  laid. 
Then  to  King  Creon  did  they  bring  the  maid, 
Rejoicing  in  the  greatness  of  her  love, 
Which  well  she  thought  no  lapse  of  time  could  move, 
And  on  the  dais  of  the  royal  hall 
They  waited  till  the  hour  should  befall 
When  Jason  and  his  friends  would  bear  her  thence 
With  gentle  rape  and  tender  violence, 
As  then  the  manner  was,  and  the  old  king 
Sat  there  beside  her,  glad  at  every  thing. 

Meanwhile  the  people  thronged  in  every  way, 
Clad  in  gay  weed,  rejoicing  for  that  day, 

26* 


298  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Since  that  their  lords  had  bidden  them  rejoice, 
And  in  the  streets  was  many  a  jocund  voice, 
That  carolled  to  the  honour  of  the  twain 
"Who  on  that  day  such  blissful  life  should  gain. 

But  Jason  set  out  from  his  pillared  house, 
Clad  in  rich  raiment,  fair  and  amorous, 
Forgetful  of  the  troubles  of  the  night, 
Nor  thinking  more  of  that  impending  blight, 
Nor  those  ill  words  the  harpies  spoke  of  old, 
As  with  his  fellows,  glittering  with  gold, 
Towards  Creon's  palace  did  he  take  his  way 
To  meet  the  bride  that  he  should  wed  that  day. 

But  in  the  hall  the  pillars  one  by  one 
Had  barred  the  pathway  of  the  travelling  sun, 
As  toward  the  west  he  turned,  and  now  at  last 
Upon  the  dais  were  his  hot  rays  cast, 
As  they  within  heard  the  glad  minstrelsy 
Of  Jason  to  his  loved  one  drawing  nigh. 

Then  Creon  took  fair  Glauce  by  the  hand, 
And  round  about  her  did  her  damsels  stand, 
Making  a  ring  'gainst  that  sweet  violence, 
That  soon  should  bear  their  lovely  mistress  thence. 
While  Glauce,  trembling  with  her  shamefast  joy, 
With  the  gold  mantle's  clasp  began  to  toy, 
Eager  to  cast  that  covering  off,  and  feel 
The  hero's  mighty  arms  about  her  steal. 

Meanwhile,  her  lover  through  the  court  had  passed, 
And  at  the  open  door  he  stood  at  last, 
Amidst  his  friends,  and,  looking  thence,  he  saw 
The  white  arms  of  the  damsels  round  her  draw 
A  wall  soon  to  be  broken  ;  but  her  face 
Over  their  flower-crowned  heads  made  glad  the  place  : 
Giddy  with  joy  one  moment  did  he  gaze 
And  saw  his  love  her  slender  fingers  raise 
Unto  the  mantle's  clasp  —  the  next  the  hall 
Was  filled  with  darting  flames  from  wall  to  wall, 


OF  JASON.  299 

And  bitter  screams  rang  out,  as  here  and  there, 
Scorched,  and  with  outspread  arms,  the  damsels  fair 
Rushed  through  the  hall;  but  swiftly  Jason  ran, 
Grown  in  one  moment  like  an  old  worn  man, 
Up  to  the  dais,  whence  one  bitter  cry 
He  heard,  of  one  in  utmost  agony, 
Calling  upon  his  once  so  helpful  name  ; 
But  when  unto  the  fiery  place  he  came, 
Nought  saw  he  but  the  flickering  tongues  of  fire 
That  up  the  wall  were  climbing  high  and  higher ; 
And  on  the  floor  a  heap  of  ashes  white, 
The  remnant  of  his  once  beloved  delight, 
For  whom  his  ancient  love  he  cast  away, 
And  of  her  sire  who  brought  about  that  day. 
Then  he  began  to  know  what  he  had  done, 
And  madly  through  the  palace  did  he  run, 
Calling  on  Glauce,  mingling  with  her  name 
The  name  of  her  that  brought  him  unto  fame, 
Colchian  Medea,  who,  for  her  reward, 
Had  lonely  life  made  terrible  and  hard, 
By  love  cast  back,  within  her  heart  to  grow 
To  madness  and  the  vengeance  wrought  out  now ; 
But  as  about  the  burning  place  he  ran, 
Full  many  a  maid  he  met  and  pale-faced  man, 
Wild  with  their  terror,  knowing  not  what  end 
That  which  their  eyes  had  seen  might  yet  portend  : 
But  these  shrunk  backward  from  his  brandished  sword, 
And  open-shouting  mouth,  and  frenzied  word, 
As  still  from  chamber  unto  chamber  fair 
He  rushed,  scarce  knowing  what  he  sought  for  there, 
Nor  where  he  went,  till  his  unresting  feet 
Had  borne  him  out  at  last  into  the  street, 
Where  armed  and  unarmed  people  stood  to  gaze 
On  Creon's  palace  that  began  to  blaze 
From  every  window  out  into  the  air, 
With  strange  light  making  pale  that  noontide  fair. 


300  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  they,  bewildered  sore,  and  timorous, 
Gazed  helplessly  upon  the  burning  house, 
And  dreaded  yet  some  hidden  enemy, 
Thinking  indeed  a  dreadful  God  to  see, 
Bearing  a  fresh  destruction  in  his  hand. 

But  now,  when  Jason  with  his  glittering  brand 
Broke  in  upon  them  from  the  growing  fire, 
With  wild  pale  face,  and  half-burnt  rich  attire, 
They  fell  back  shuddering  as  his  face  they  knew, 
Changed  though  it  was,  and  soon  a  murmur  grew  :  — 
"  Death  to  the  sorceress,  the  Colchian  !  " 
But  he,  unheeding  still,  from  'midst  them  ran, 
Until  unto  his  own  fair  house  he  came, 
Where  gazed  his  folk  upon  the  far-off  flame, 
And  muttered  low  for  fear  and  wofulness. 

Then  he  knew  not  his  own,  but  none  the  less 
Into  the  court  he  passed,  and  his  bright  sword 
Cast  down  and  said  :   "  What  feeble,  timid  lord 
Hides  here  when  all  the  world  is  on  a  blaze, 
And  laughing,  from  their  heaven  the  high  Gods  gaze 
At  foolish  men  shut  in  the  burning  place  ?  " 
With  that  he  turned  about  his  haggard  face, 
And  stared  upon  his  own  fair-sculptured  frieze, 
Carved  into  likeness  of  the  tumbling  seas, 
And  Argo,  and  the  heroes  he  had  led, 
And  fair  Medea.     Then  he  cried,  and  said  :  — 
"  Lo,  how  the  Gods  are  mocking  me  with  this, 
And  show  me  pictures  of  my  vanished  bliss, 
As  though  on  earth  I  were,  and  not  in  hell ; 
And  images  of  tilings  I  know  full  well 
Have  set  about  me.     Can  I  die  again, 
And  in  some  lower  hell  forget  the  pain 
My  life  is  passed  in  now?  " 

And  with  that  word 

He  cast  his  eyes  upon  his  glittering  sword, 
And  caught  it  up  and  set  it  to  his  breast, 


OF  JASON.  301 

And  in  one  moment  had  he  been  at  rest 
From  all  his  troubles,  when  a  woman  old, 
His  nurse  in  past  times,  did  the  deed  behold, 
And  ran  and  caught  the  hero's  mighty  hand, 
And  hanging  round  about  him  did  she  stand, 
And  cried  :  "  Ah,  Jason  !  ah,  my  lord,  let  be  ! 
For  who  can  give  another  life  to  thee  ? 
And  though  to-day  the  yery  sun  looks  black, 
And  wholesome  air  the  whole  world  seems  to  lack, 
Yet  shalt  thou  yet  have  wealth  of  happy  days, 
And  well-fulfilled  desires,  and  all  men's  praise, 
Unless  the  Gods  have  quite  forgotten  thee. 
0  Jason  !  0  my  child  !  come  now  with  me, 
That  I  may  give  thee  sweet  forgetfulness 
A  little  while  of  sorrow  and  distress." 

Then  with  the  crone  did  Jason  go  along, 
And  let  her  thin  hand  hold  his  fingers  strong, 
As  though  a  child  he  were  in  that  old  day, 
Ere  in  the  Centaur's  woodland  cave  he  lay. 
But  through  the  house  unto  a  distant  room, 
Dark-hung,  she  brought  him,  where,  amidst  the  gloom, 
Speechless  he  lay,  when  she  had  made  him  drink 
Some  potion  pressed  from  herbs  plucked  by  the  brink 
Of  scarce-known  lakes  of  Pontus ;  then  she  said, 
As  she  beheld  at  last  his  weary  head 
Sink  on  the  pillow  :   "  Jason,  rest  thee  now, 
And  may  some  kind  God  smooth  thy  wrinkled  brow. 
Behold  to-morrow  comes,  and  thou  art  young, 
Nor  on  one  string  are  all  life's  jewels  strung ; 
Thou  shalt  be  great,  and  many  a  land  shalt  save, 
And  of  thy  coming  life  more  joy  shalt  have 
Than  thou  hast  thought  of  yet." 

He  heard  her  words, 
But  as  the  far-off  murmur  of  the  birds 
The  townsman  hears  ere  yet  the  morn  is  late, 
While  streets  are  void  and  shut  is  every  gate ; 


302  THE   LIFE  AND  DEATH 

But  still  they  soothed  him,  and  he  fell  asleep, 
While  at  his  feet  good  watch  the  crone  did  keep. 

But  what  a  waking  unto  him  shall  be  ! 
And  what  a  load  of  shameful  misery 
His  life  shall  bear !     His  old  love  cast  away, 
His  new  love  dead  upon  that  fearful  day, 
Childless,  dishonoured,  must  his  days  go  by. 
For  in  another  chamber  did  there  lie 
Two  little  helpless  bodies  side  by  side, 
Smiling  as  though  in  sweet  sleep  they  had  died, 
And  feared  no  ill.     And  she  who  thus  had  slain 
Those  fruits  of  love,  the  folk  saw  not  again, 
Nor  knew  where  she  was  gone ;  yet  she  died  not, 
But  fleeing,  somehow,  from  that  fatal  spot, 
She  came  to  Athens,  and  there  long  did  dwell, 
Whose  after-life  I  list  not  here  to  tell. 

But  as  for  Jason,  —  Creon  now  being  slain, 
And  Corinth  kingless,  every  man  was  fain, 
Remembering  Jason's  wisdom  and  sharp  sword, 
To  have  the  hero  for  their  king  and  lord. 
So  on  his  weary  brows  they  set  the  crown, 
And  he  began  to  rule  that  noble  town. 
And  'midst  all  things,  somewhat  his  misery 
Was  dulled  unto  him,  as  the  days  went  by, 
And  he  began  again  to  cast  his  eyes 
On  lovely  things,  and  hope  began  to  rise 
Once  more  within  his  heart. 

But  on  a  day 

From  out  the  goodly  town-  he  took  his  way, 
To  where,  beneath  the  cliffs  of  Cenchrese, 
Lay  Argo,  looking  o'er  the  ridgy  sea, 
Being  fain  once  more  to  ponder  o'er  past  days, 
Ere  he  should  set  his  face  to  winning  praise 
Among  the  shouts  of  men  and  clash  of  steel. 


OF  JASON.  303 

But  when  he  reached  the  well-remembered  keel, 
The  sun  was  for  upon  his  downward  way, 
At  afternoon  of  a  bright  summer  day. 
Hot  was  it,  and  still  o'er  the  long  rank  grass, 
Beneath  the  hull,  a  widening  shade  did  pass ; 
And  farther  off,  the  sunny  daisied  sward, 
The  raised  oars  with  their  creeping  shadows  barred  ; 
And  grey  shade  from  the  hills  of  Cenchrese 
Began  to  move  toward  the  heaving  sea. 

So  Jason,  lying  in  the  shadow  dark 
Cast  by  the  stem,  the  warble  of  the  lark, 
The  chirrup  of  the  cricket,  well  could  hear ; 
And  now  and  then  the  sound  would  come  anear 
Of  some  hind  shouting  o'er  his  laden  wain. 
But  looking  o'er  the  blue  and  heaving  plain, 
Sailless  it  was,  and  beaten  by  no  oar, 
And  on  the  yellow  edges  of  the  shore 
The  ripple  fell  in  murmur  soft  and  low, 
As  with  wide-sweeping  wings  the  gulls  did  go 
About  the  breakers  crying  plaintively. 

But  Jason,  looking  out  across  the  sea, 
Beheld  the  signs  of  wind  a-drawing  nigh, 
Gathering  about  the  clear  cold  eastern  sky, 
And  many  an  evening  then  he  thought  upon 
Ere  yet  the  quays  of  .ZEa  they  had  won, 
And  longings  that  had  long  been  gathering 
Stirred  in  his  heart,  and  now  he  felt  the  sting 
Of  life  within  him,  and  at  last  he  said  :  — 
"  Why  should  I  move  about  as  move  the  dead, 
And  take  no  heed  of  what  all  men  desire  ? 
Once  more  I  feel  within  my  heart  the  fire 
That  drave  me  forth  unto  the  white-walled  town, 
Leaving  the  sunny  slopes,  and  thick-leaved  crown 
Of  grey  old  Pelion,  that  alone  I  knew, 
Great  deeds  and  wild,  and  desperate  things  to  do. 


304  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

"  Ah  the  strange  life  of  happiness  and  woe 
That  I  have  led,  since  my  young  feet  did  go 
From  that  grey,  peaceful,  much-beloved  abode  ! 
But  now,  indeed,  will  I  cast  off  the  load 
Of  memory  of  vain  hopes  that  came  to  nought, 
Of  rapturous  joys  with  biting  sorrows  bought. 
The  past  is  past,  though  I  cannot  forget 
Those  days,  with  long  life  laid  before  me  yet. 

"  Ah,  but  one  moment,  ere  I  turn  the  page, 
And  leave  regret  to  white  hairs  and  to  age. 

"  Once  did  I  win  a  noble  victory, 
I  won  a  kingdom,  and  I  cast  it  by 
For  rest  and  peace,  and  rest  and  peace  are  gone. 
I  had  a  fair  love,  that  loved  me  alone, 
And  made  me  that  I  am  in  all  men's  eyes ; 
And  like  my  hard-earned  kingdom,  my  fair  prize, 
I  cast  my  tender  heart,  my  Love,  away  ; 
Yet  failed  I  not  to  love,  until  a  day, 
A  day  I  nigh  forget,  took  all  from  me 
That  once  I  had  —  yet  is  that  as  a  dream, 
And  still  my  life  a  happy  life  I  deem ; 
But  ah  !  so  short,  so  short !  for  I  am  left 
Of  love,  of  honour,  and  of  joy  bereft  — 
And  yet  not  dead  —  ah  !  if  I  could  but  see 
But  once  again  her  who  delivered  me 
From  death  and  many  troubles,  then  no  more 
Would  I  turn  backward  from  the  shadowy  shore, 
And  all  my  life  would  seem  but  perfect  gain. 

"  Alas  !  what  hope  is  this  V  is  it  in  vain 
I  long  to  see  her  ?     Lo,  am  I  not  young  ? 
In  many  a  song  my  past  deeds  have  been  sung, 
And  these  my  hands,  that  guided  Argo  through 
The  blue  Symplcgades,  still  deeds  may  do. 
For  now  the  world  has  swerved  from  truth  and  right, 
Cumbered  with  monsters,  empty  of  delight, 
And,  'midst  all  this,  what  honour  I  may  win, 


OF  JASON.  3°5 

That  she  may  know  of  and  rejoice  therein, 

And  come  to  seek  me,  and  upon  my  throne 

May  find  me  sitting,  worshipped,  and  alone. 

Ah  !  if  it  should  be,  how  should  I  rejoice 

To  hear  once  more  that  once-beloved  voice 

Rise  through  the  burden  of  dull  words,  well-known  ! 

How  should  I  clasp  again  my  love,  mine  own, 

And  set  the  crown  upon  her  golden  head, 

And  with  the  eyes  of  lovers  newly  wed, 

How  should  we  gaze  each  upon  each  again  ! 

"  0  hope  not  vain !  0  surely  not  quite  vain  ! 
For  with  the  next  returning  light  will  I 
Oast  off  my  moody  sorrow  utterly, 
And  once  more  live  my  life  as  in  times  past, 
And  'mid  the  chance  of  war  the  die  will  cast. 

"  And  surely,  whatso  great  deeds  have  been  done, 
Since  with  my  fellows  the  Gold  Fleece  I  won, 
Still,  here,  some  wild  bull  clears  the  frightened  fields, 
There  a  great  lion  cleaves  the  sevenfold  shields, 
There  dwells  some  giant  robber  of  the  land, 
There  whirls  some  woman-slayer's  red  right  hand. 
Yea,  what  is  this  they  speak  of  even  now, 
That  Theseus,  having  brought  his  conquering  prow 
From  lying  Crete,  unto  the  fair-walled  town, 
Now  gathers  folk,  since  there  are  coming  down 
The  shielded  women  of  the  Asian  plain, 
Myriads  past  counting,  in  the  hope  to  gain 
The  mastery  of  this  lovely  land  of  Greece  ? 
So  be  it,  surely  shall  I  snatch  fair  peace 
From  out  the  hand  of  war,  and  calm  delight 
From  the  tumultuous  horror  of  the  fight." 

So  saying,  gazing  still  across  the  sea, 
Heavy  with  days  and  nights  of  misery,  \ 

His  eyes  waxed  dim,  and  calmer  still  he  grew, 
Still  pondering  over  times  and  things  he  knew, 
27 


306  THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

While  now  the  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  hill, 
And  from  a  white-thorn  nigh  a  thrush  did  fill 
The  balmy  air  with  echoing  minstrelsy, 
And  cool  the  night-wind  blew  across  the  sea, 
And  round  about  the  soft-winged  bats  did  sweep. 

So  'midst  all  this  at  last  he  fell  asleep, 
Nor  did  his  eyes  behold  another  day, 
For  Argo,  slowly  rotting  all  away, 
Had  dropped  a  timber  here,  and  there  an  oar, 
All  through  that  year,  but  people  of  the  shore 
Set  all  again  in  order  as  it  fell. 
But  now  the  stem-post,  that  had  carried  well 
The  second  rafter  in  King  Pelias'  hall, 
Began  at  last  to  quiver  towards  its  fall, 
And  whether  loosed  by  some  divinity, 
Or  that  the  rising  wind  from  off  the  sea 
Blew  full  upon  it,  surely  I  know  not  — 
But,  when  the  day  dawned,  still  on  the  same  spot, 
Beneath  the  ruined  stem,  did  Jason  lie 
Crushed,  and  all  dead  of  him  that  here  can  die. 

What  more?  —  Some  shepherd  of  the  lone  grey  slope, 
Drawn  to  the  sandy  sea-beach  by  the  hope 
Of  trapping  quick-eared  rabbits,  found  him  there, 
And,  running  back,  called,  from  the  vineyards  fair, 
Vine-dressers  and  their  mates,  who  through  the  town 
Ere  then  had  borne  their  well-filled  baskets  brown  ; 
These,  looking  on  his  dead  face,  straightway  knew 
This  was  the  king  that  all  men  kneeled  unto, 
Who  dwelt  between  the  seas ;  therefore  they  made 
A  bier  of  white-thorn  boughs,  and  thereon  laid 
The  dead  man,  straightening  every  drawn-up  limb ; 
And,  casting  flowers  and  green  leaves  over  him, 
They  bore  him  unto  Corinth,  where  the  folk, 


OF  JASON.  3°7 

When  they  knew  all,  into  loud  wailing  broke, 
Calling  him  mighty  hero,  crown  of  kings. 

But  him  ere  long  to  where  the  sea-wind  sings 
O'er  the  grey  hill-side  did  they  bear  again. 
And  there,  where  he  had  hoped  that  hope  in  vain, 
They  laid  him  in  a  marble  tomb  carved  fair 
With  histories  of  his  mighty  deeds  ;  and  there 
Such  games  as  once  he  loved,  yet  being  alive, 
They  held  for  ten  days,  and  withal  did  give 
Gifts  to  the  Gods  with  many  a  sacrifice ; 
But  chiefest,  among  all  the  things  of  price, 
Argo  they  offered  to  the  Deity 
Who  shakes  the  hard  earth  with  the  rolling 

And  now  is  all  that  ancient  story  told 
Of  him  who  won  the  guarded  Fleece  of  Gold. 


THE     END. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  I.IBRARY 


